[ It is a heady thing, to have his judge, executioner and saviour sitting upon his lap as she does now, gazing at him with wide, open eyes. It makes him long for more of her, the sort of thing that he is entirely unable to deserve, not with what he has done in his lifetime - all the lifetimes he has lived. The fact that Pahja still reaches for him, still wants him, is something of its own kind of miracle.
There is joy in it, in knowing that he is wanted, that someone has the heart to care for him knowing al l that he has within him.
Slow, gentle lips trail along her jawline, against the curve of her skin, testing the boundaries of his affection. He cannot find the means to stop nor cease, hands stroking along her waist and hips, his fingers exploring as he listens to her speak - sounding almost as though he might be in awe of her, of all that she carries.
If he were the man who might have the strength to blush he might now, but time has stolen that from him. He can do aught else. ]
All of me. A dangerous request for someone of your... Stature. [ She has seen all of him, and his fingers move, edging by her hips and shifting to settle between her legs. His eyes do not leave her face. ] I am a great deal to take.
[ He barely has the strength to move, to lean forward and kiss her, but his hips shift, just a little, grinding up against the shape of her body. There is no denying his wants now. ]
( All of him, and she does not look away. Instead she shudders, shivers at the touch of his lips and his fingers with want and a deep, unending affection that she knows is part of the core of her, her soul.It was not fate that made her love him, nor some greater design, but all of her celebrates the fact that she does.
Pahja runs her hand through his hair, claws scraping the skin at the nape of his neck gently, so gently. She will be kind to him, she wants to be good for him. To let him shuck the weight of his burdens for a time, to share them to the best of her ability. )
Has nothing I have accomplished proved that I am a woman of my word, yet still you doubt me? ( It is all she manages to get out before the unmistakable hardness of his want steals her breath away, the press of his fingers between her legs a tease that blows her eyes wide and her mouth open as a soft, shaky moan falls from her lips. Luckily he is there to swallow it, and she presses further -- mouth and lips to kiss him deeper, press down against him with another roll of her hips. ) All of you, Hades. Every sin, every burden, every scar on your soul.
( Her fingers drag down the line of his jaw, down his neck -- fingers brushing over his collarbones. But she does not wrap them around his neck, does not look on him with malice or even pity. There is only love in her gaze, in her touch as she rolls her hips once more, gasping at the friction. )
[ Emet-Selch is well aware that he could completely destroy her, should he desire; he doubts that she would ever wish to see him in his true form once again and allow that to have power over her. He is settled completely in this shape, in the Emet-Selch he has come to be, and there's no hiding his desire for her in this form either. It is heavy between them, reminding him of just how humanlike he has become in his age.
Desire is not unfamiliar to him, of course, not in the eons that he has lived, but to feel someone so close that he has wanted, that he has yearned for... It makes him a little needier than he might otherwise have been, a little more desperate and yielding to her wants and needs.
Not that he is an inattentive lover, of course.
All of it, that is what she asks for, and his fingers steal under her clothing, no barriers, prepared to push away the seams keeping him from her and devour her entirely. The gentle movement of her hips has him shaking, and he swallows, leaning in to kiss her again. ]
Take your clothing off. Now.
[ Then, breathless - ]
I may not have a soul to show you as we speak, but I have a body.
His touch has her shaking already, and Pahja swallows heavily against his lips in order to hold herself together or they both will shake apart too soon. She wants to see him come undone this way, whole and hale, than through violence -- but by her hand, still. Curling her fingers into his clothes makes heeding his request difficult, and Pahja kisses him with a desperation she's finally allowing herself to feel: wanting him, losing him, and now -- having him at last. It makes it difficult to separate herself from him.
But she does, gasping as she ends the kiss so that she can strip as quickly as possible. One for flashiness, Pahja curses her taste in clothing as it takes time to shed it all -- and every moment spent not pressed against him is time wasted. )
Even that, Emet -- that will be enough. ( Breathless, she rolls her hips down against him, gasping at the weight and the hardness against her. Close to what she wants, what they want, but not quite. ) On the First I thought-- ( Pahja swallows her hesitation, continuing on-- ) I thought I might love you given time.
( Her tunic is off, cast to the side carelessly. Gooseflesh rises on her bare skin in the coolness of the air; grey-blue skin almost blending into the surrounding stone of Mor Dhona. Next are her gloves, her boots, and finally her shorts and smalls -- though this she does have to life herself up off of him to rid herself of them.
The fact that he remains fully dressed doesn't bother her; she's not a shy woman, and is quick to resettle against his hips and his chest the moment she can, enjoying the feeling of expensive cloth and fur against her bare skin.
Her fingers curl again into his clothes as she pulls him down for another kiss, demanding and accepting all at once. )
Let me see your body then, let me show you how much I love you.
[ There is a certain electricity between the two of them, born of mutual want and desire, a spark of affection that has transformed itself into a flame.
Emet-Selch is aware that he has been given something of a second chance, the world changed before him and a warrior reaching for him and offering him salvation. The fact that he is now able to watch that self-same warrior undress and share herself with him is a boon he had never anticipated, something he had not dared to dream. Midnight thoughts that wander in the dark is not the same as conscious daydream, his tight control resisting it, but all the same...
Watching her unravel herself, take off her layers and let them drop to the side, is a miracle beyond anything paradise might have offered him.
Careful hands rest on her hips as soon as he is able again, shifting up so that his cock can press against her, wanting more and more of her but still barred by fabric and his own tense self-control. The temptation to lift her by the arm and press her against the wall, to have her that way, crosses his mind once more and he has to force himself to breathe out and remain calm. Another time, perhaps.
Eyes lift as he listens to her speak and his throat goes dry. ] Given time? Has there been time enough, Pahja, or must I beg more of you in future?
[ Pahja settles down against him and he reaches to stretch his fingers over bared skin, her hip, up to her chest, letting his thumb rub on the edge of her. He gives into her kisses because he has no other choice - not when his other hand is already slipping back between her legs, feeling her with no barrier, nothing to keep him from what he wants - to give her the greatest pleasure and feel her fall apart for him and no other.
Emet-Selch has always been selfish.
Nipping her mouth, he hums, the sound tailing into a groan as he realises his own desire, twinned with hers, how much they want one another and how close they are to sharing it. ]
Do whatever you desire with me. I am naught but yours.
Enough by half. You will never be free of me now, not in this life and not in the next.
( No, their souls will stay together. A silly pledge to make, perhaps, but is one she would swear by. If there was one thing the past gods-know-how-long has taught her it is that her soul belongs with his and Hythlodaeus.
She would tell him that, if he were not so successful at diverting her thoughts from anything but this: the press of her flesh against his clothes, the feel of his cock against her, the groan that escapes him. Her lower lip catches between her teeth as she endeavors to keep it together long enough to direct him. But he is touching her at last, only serving to make her burn more for him instead of quenching the ache.
Curving into him, Pahja presses open-mouthed kisses along his jaw, letting her fangs drag over the soft, pale skin of his neck. They are not delicate people, the two of them, but she is careful not to break skin. There is a time and a place for roughness, and part of her desperately wants to test their limits, but now... now she just wants to bask in the glory of having him. )
I want to come by your touch. ( That much should be obvious, the way she shifts down against his fingers, wanting more. Like this, she thinks, against his clothes -- if they stain then he will simply have to magic it away. No great feat for him, she's certain. ) And then I would have you strip down and lie there and fuck me until we exhaust ourselves. I want to see your face, Emet.
( She wants to see him lose himself. That is not so big of a request, Pahja thinks, that they can't come to an agreement. )
I think that is a burden that I might not fear to carry.
[ Her soul found his time and time again, after all, so he has no reason to imagine he might escape her now. The notion of it is one that he cannot fathom, not when he has been brought to her side, not when she has found him and reached for him, loved him, wanted him. Emet-Selch wants nothing more than to keep her with him, to keep the taste of her in his mouth for the eons that lay before them.
There is no hesitation in the way his head tilts for her, allowing her access to his neck and whatever else she might desire. Of course there is no doubt that she wants his clothing gone, just as he has hers, but there is something deliciously decedent about her nakedness against his fabric. It is made all the more delicious for her gentle commentary, the way she speaks and leaves him flushed and wanting.
No hesitation follows his movements, his eyes dark and settled as his fingers finally press between her legs properly, less explorative and more firm. Yes, he is hard, yes, he is wanting, but her pleasure comes first; not only because he wishes it to be so but because she has demanded it, she wants it of him, and Emet-Selch recognises his own desire to serve her to the best of all that he has.
It is a tease at first, of course, because there is no need to rush when they have hours ahead of them, but his lips do curl into a smile. ]
Then come you shall, my love, before I make good use of this ground we have been given.
[ He will fuck her, there is no denying that, and he will make her come again as he does so, but for now his fingers do the work. His freer hand, the one not teasing, settles on her behind and holds her in position, pressing his fingers up properly, his eyes watching her face. He knows how to bring a woman pleasure, knows how to have her fall apart on his fingers, and he does so now - a slow, building pace, testing the waters and letting his thumb press.
Eventually she will get his fingers, eventually he will feel her shake around him, he will taste her, devour her, but for now he wants to learn what she likes, what she enjoys, how much pressure, how fast or slow. ]
( Pahja knows that no one will understand this, how enamored they are with each other, how she trusts him and wants to be undone by his touch. How she loves him, and he her. But it isn't her job to explain herself to any who question her; she will relish every touch, every word from Emet in her own way. And shower him with her own until there is no mistaking the depths of her emotion.
His flush is endearing -- she reaches up to trace the bloom of red across his cheekbones before twisting her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. The other curls into the fabric of his clothes, relishing the feeling of it against her skin. Having him naked before her will come, just as sure as she will, but for now she enjoys the decadence of letting him have her bare before him. )
I have no doubt--
( The light touch has her squirming against him in an attempt for more, mouth falling open as she holds his gaze -- golden, tired, and full of want and desire. She can only hope that he can see how much she intends to enjoy this on her own face, cheeks darkening with her own flush, spreading down her neck and over her chest.
When his fingers finally press up and touch her she rewards him with a sharp gasp and a tightening of her fingers. It isn't enough, it won't be enough until he is fingers deep in her. She moves again, a half-hearted protest of the pace he is testing out, rubbing up against his cock as much as she can at the same time. )
Tease. ( She accuses him, mouth turning up into a small smirk as her legs twitch from the press of his thumb against her. ) More. Harder, Emet, I can take it--
( Even if he doesn't, even if he wants to make her squirm and beg for him, Pahja knows he won't leave her unsatisfied. )
[ Once upon a time an encounter like this would simply have been a means to an end - for children, for his empire, for his plans. With Pahja it is nothing more than his own want and his own feelings, nothing more than genuinely desiring her pleasure above all else. Emet might even have found himself content to give her a shattering orgasm and leave himself untouched; all he wants is to see her, hear her, as she falls apart for him.
There's no doubt that she knows what she wants, is clear with her desires, and he has no hesitation as he adjusts his own legs to near enough force her legs open for him. She's clinging to him and it's enough to leave him feeling heady and desperate, wanting to tear his clothing off and press her into the ground below them. Luckily, for all that he might jest on the matter, he has mustered some level of patience. ]
Perhaps I am simply enjoying myself.
[ Every sound and expression she makes is delicious and all he can do is drink them in. When his fingers finally move it's with a slow, careful press of his forefinger inside of her, thumb still moving in sure motions, learning her wants, feeling her move and grind against him. One finger is nothing compared to the rest of him, of course, but he will take his time to open her, to prepare her, to ensure that she is drowning in want, pleasure and desire before he takes what is his.
Lips curling, he leans in to kiss her as his finger moves, testing her patience once again - slow, steady, teasing. She can take anything he gives her, there's no denying that, but that doesn't mean he has no want to indulge himself in a lengthy encounter. ]
( She spreads her legs for him willingly and unabashedly. He could ask her to do so anywhere and she would if it meant him giving her what she wants, no question. Not the wisest choice, but Pahja has long accepted that she will never pick the wisest choice when it comes to Emet.
In fairness, neither does he.
It takes a few breathless moments for her to put together words to counter him, voice low and as wanting as her body. )
Am I a meal for you to take your time savoring?
( Not that Pahja would complain. But another time, unless he intends to stretch her to the limits and keep her in agony.
The moan that escapes her as a finger slips in is unabashed, louder than the small groans from earlier -- she is not ashamed of how much she desires him, desires this, and enjoys it. That others might be doesn't occur to her; she simply cares about letting Emet know. Let him hear so that there is no mistake in his mind that she knows it is him, only him.
Not that there could be any doubt now. Pahja relinquishes her vicelike grip on his clothes to slide her hand down, cupping his cock through his clothes. Her mouth stays open when he kisses her as she simply gives him pressure and no friction -- her own tease. She set the rules for this encounter, after all, and giving him anything more would be violating them.
Biting his lip -- the tips of her fangs gently catching his lower lip as she pulls away -- she manages a shake of her head. )
No! No and you-- ( Her grip on his hair tightens, tugging his head down so that she can place wet, open mouthed kisses on his skin. Rolling her hips she attempts to get him to hit deeper, to quicken the teasing pace he's set. ) Oh-- you know that.
[ And he is genuine with it, watching her as he does with his dark eyes and intense expression. There's no denying that he could devour her if he wished, no matter what form he is in, but he takes his in stride. Her pleasure is paramount, beyond anything else.
In this he has no reason to be difficult, to be exasperated, to be anything more than simply hers. She has brought him back from the brink and he will ignore it no longer.
He is not the type to mind that someone might overhear, that there may be some questions later - he takes pride in the knowledge that she is gaining pleasure from his touch, that she can move against his fingers and demand more of him, to take from him everything that he has to offer. Emet-Selch watches her as she shivers and moves, as she wants from him, and his eyes never move too far from her face.
Leaning into her kisses, he resists the urge to laugh, a sharp little thing in the back of his throat. ]
I know a great deal of you, my Pahja, and I shall learn more in time.
[ It does not take long until he gives her another finger, pressing two inside of her and curling them just a little, enough that he can begin to learn a sense of her best pleasure, where she most wants from him, what he can do to bring her to orgasm before she can tease him into breaking. ]
( Pahja is all-too willing to be devoured by him, heart and soul and body. It is far less dangerous in her mind than half the things she's done recently -- Emet would not hurt her now, he wouldn't dare. And, Pahja thinks, he wouldn't bear the thought.
Neither would she.
The press of another finger into her has her shaking around him, tightening around his fingers as he curls them -- not enough, she can take more. He knows she can, and the tease has her biting her lip trying to keep herself from chastising him first thing. But the curl does succeed in ripping another moan from her, grip on him tightening. )
Your Pahja? I-- I like the sound of that. ( A breath, her chest heaving with the effort it takes to form words. She shifts her hips slightly so he can hit deeper and her voice catches with a soft moan. That it also means she rubs against his cock is a side benefit. ) Yours, then. Unless you-- ( Another roll of her hips to adjust the curve of his fingers. ) Ah! Un--unless you continue to tease!
( Not that Pahja minds. It's just as enjoyable as rushing quickly into it, this dragging it on and making her wait. Even if he is a tease. )
[ The very fact that he is being given a second chance is something overwhelming, something he does not know how to handle, and he feels completely undone by the very nature of it. There is no part of him that could ever deserve her nor the love and affection she offers.
He is well aware of the fact that the rest of her peers do not approve; they are not particularly keen on anything to do with him, on anything that he might give to her or offer her. To them he is nothing more than a monster. The fact that she has been able to see beyond that; that she has still decided to want and love him is a blessing. He will not let anyone come between them.
Emet-Selch is well aware of how much she can take, but he is careful, nudging her towards pleasure with careful movements of his fingers. His expression is set, determined, ignoring his own wants and desires to focus on her, to try and not to shake and shiver as she grinds against the hard outline of his cock. It makes him ache, wanting her, desperately, but he resists.
She comes first - in all ways. ]
You would, possessive creature that you are. [ His lips twist, smirking, as he leans down to kiss along her jawline, scraping his teeth against her skin. ]
Are you not mine in turn? My Emet-Selch, my Hades. ( Her's, her's, her's. Selfish and greedy, maybe, but Pahja has given too much to this star for her not to have something that is her's, that she will not have to relinquish at some point for the greater good. He is here with her until their souls depart and that is enough. For both of them. ) Preparing--
( Oh. He is rather larger than her, Pahja struck by the sudden realization with what that implies, but a stray thought enters her mind for a moment that she can't help but voice, head falling to the side to give him all the access to her neck that he needs. )
Not-- not to distract you or anything but, later-- ( A shudder, panting her words now as she shifts against him. There is a burning heat in her that only he can quench and she wants, she wants him to bury his fingers in her and then his cock until she can think of nothing else. ) I'll take you like this, Emet, and then you can prepare me more and I'll have you transformed too, if you have a cock and even if you don't, just keep going--
( She's babbling through the soft sounds of wants, breaking off into a small keen. Focus, Pahja tries to tell herself, focus. And try to get him to break. )
You'll ruin me, won't you? I will never take another lover, not after you, not after having your fingers and your cock, your love--
( Possessive and greedy. Pahja continues to move against his fingers as if she has something to prove, trying to see if she can get him to brush a fingers across her clit -- something, anything. It's close but it's not enough and if he's going to insist on taking his time preparing she will make it as hard for him as it is for her, pun intended. )
Oh, to be so claimed is a dangerous thing, Pahja. To lay claim over the beast that would sunder the world... You would truly bear such a mantle? [ The idea of her wanting to keep him, to have him forever, leaves his hands shaking just a little bit, his fingers brushing over her hip as he lets his other hand twist and push gently. He knows what he is doing, knows what is happening, but he feels overwhelmed by the nature of her words.
She is too soft, too gentle, but he wants her, all of her, to keep and to claim and to have for as long as she will permit. The fact that she is so very willing to take him in all ways that he can offer. As she continues to speak it feels as though he is getting harder and harder, his voice coming out with a sort little moan. ]
You have no desire to distract me but speak of taking me in the fullest of forms? I could break you, dearest Pahja, I could tear you in half with the size of me, and you still think on it? You saw me-
[ He leans forward, his back awkwardly bent as he shoves his face into her neck and breathes her in. He's shaky with it, wanting more of her, wanting to take her, own her, but all he can do is swallow. ]
No one else will ever touch you. No one else will ever have you the way I have, for as long as I shall live beside you. I am going to fuck you so hard that you will never even dream of another man nor woman touching you.
[ His other hand finally moves away from her hip and slips around as a third finger nudges at her; his other thumb begins to rub over her clit gently, beginning to move harder, faster, more intensely, all to see her come for him. ]
Yes, ( And it rings out loud in the air of Mor Dhona as Emet slide another finger in her, as he picks up his pace to something finally nearing what she wants. Her hands curl into his hair, twisting and holding his face tight against her neck, his lips hot against her skin as she feels all of her tighten around him, around his fingers. Her voice is rough, wanton, punctuated by gasps and moans but she cannot stop the words that flow from her. ) I claim you, Emet-Selch, you are my burden to bear, mine to love. In all forms. Break me, tear me in half if you would but if it is by your hand, your cock, I will--
( He steals her words away by the sheer force of his want, his desire, and she can feel that she is close now, but not there yet. His hands work wonders against her, inside of her, and perhaps it was so greedy of her to ask him to have nothing while she has everything but oh, she doesn't regret it. Pahja will pay him back tenfold through whatever means he would ask of her for this moment, for her naked against his chest, clinging to his clothes as desperation overtakes them.
It takes a moment for her to adjust to his fingers, to the pace he sets, but then she moves with him, chasing the nearing high while trying, however vainly, to make sure his cock is not completely abandoned, be it the friction of her moving against him or the rough bump as she meets the thrust of his hands. )
No one else, Emet. I see you. I saw you, and I want-- Oh! Emet, Emet-- ( She cracks, but it doesn't feel like desperation -- it feels like freedom. ) Hades, please--
Yes? [ His fingers move and press inside of her, watching as she begins to move herself on his fingers. When she tightens around his fingers it makes him moan softly, his head tilting back just a little so that he can watch her, watch the expressions move across her face as she takes her pleasure. He wants that for her, wants her to use him as a tool for her to come, to break apart, to be to her whatever she most wants.
Tear me in half, she says, and the urge to do it is so present that he doesn't know what to do with himself. He already knows that he is larger than she is, that he is simply a greater size than perhaps she might be used to - he cares not what she might have had in the past - but he wants to be the biggest and the last. He wants to keep her, for as long as she will allow, a desperate little niggling in the back of his mind.
His fingers do not stop. His hand does not stop. His thumb presses into her clit as his fingers move, beginning to move harder and faster, fucking her with his fingers where he cannot with his cock just yet. Emet-Selch - no, Hades, in this moment more himself than he has ever been - fucks her with all that he has, teeth scraping over the skin of her collarbone as he moans her name, low and deep in the back of his throat.
( The heat builds in her with each thrust of his fingers, winding her tighter and tighter. When he pulls back she does not attempt to pull him back -- instead opening her eyes to catch his gaze as long as she can, mouth falling open and soft moans escaping with every press of his fingers, every time his thumb runs over her clit. She is not one to insult those she's slept with, but already Emet is establishing himself as one of the most fulfilling -- he is eager and wanting and her's. No doubt he will steel the crown completely ere long. )
Oh-- ( Her voice catches, a hitch as she feels herself nearing the crest. Pahja's hands scramble to hold onto him, vicelike. Her moans are louder now, thought nearly fled until all she can think of is him, of Emet-Selch, and it is all she has wanted, all she needs.
It's his words against her skin that sends her over the edge with a loud cry, ) Hades! ( As she falls apart, uncaring of the echoing, ringing sound that someone might have heard -- it is for his ears in the end and Pahja wants to know how much pleasure he's brought her, how much she adores him. Loves him, for she does. Her eyes flutter shut as the wave of pleasure hits her, mouth still open as he continues to move his fingers in her, soft sounds of satisfaction escaping her until she comes back to herself enough to do anything more than simply bask in it.
Oh, how she adores him -- Pahja reaches up to brush his hair away from his face, eyes brimming with love as she presses her lips to whatever skin she can reach, only slightly teasing with the drag of her fangs along his pale, flushed skin. )
[ Watching her is one of the most beautiful things in the world; she is like a picture come to life, something unique and remarkable, something he would never have been able to dream up alone. Any imagining he might have had of her in these moments, in the throes of passion and orgasm, would never compare to the reality of it, to how she really looks when she is coming apart like this.
Her voice rises and his eyes stay glued to her face, unable to flicker away for even the briefest of moments. He dares not even blink for fear of missing something. ] Yes, my love.
[ Hearing her say his name - his true name - as she comes apart is a delight, and he draws her closer as she does, not stopping the movement of his fingers until she gives him an indication to do so. No, he watches her with soft eyes instead, drinking her in and letting his expression shift into something softer. Let the entirety of Mor Dhona hear her as she falls apart for him; he is smug enough to enjoy it.
( Pahja sighs happily into his mouth, relaxing her grip on him so that she might wrap her arms around him instead to hold him there as she allows her shaky limbs to go limp, though the warmth and need is banked for now and not abated. Speaking of -- Pahja reaches for his hand, not because she desires him to stop, but because now it will become increasingly unfair that she is naked and he is not. )
You spoil me. But I won't have you dressed for much longer.
( Just long enough for her to catch her breath, the sweat barely drying on her skin in the cool air. But-- Here Pahja's grin turns wicked, eyes gleaming with mischief as she takes his hand to her face before taking two of his fingers into her mouth, sliding her tongue around them as she sucks them clean -- her eyes locked with his as she does so.
There is so much still she wants to do with him, for him. Serious about her desire to have him transformed, it only scratched the surface of what she wants to experience with him, sucking him off, pegging him, letting him eat her out under the stars. Once she thought she would never have the chance. Now, however, she does -- and Pahja intends on making up for lost time. Perhaps she could convince him to travel with her as she follows his long list of things to explore, things to discover. Perhaps she will finally need to have a home to leave him at so that she might have someone to come back to.
Whatever the future holds, she knows he has a place in it, if he chooses. )
[ Emet-Selch is content as she leans against him, settled against his chest, and his fingers slip away - slowly, carefully, to not tease or push any over-sensitive areas, but not to leave her completely bereft so swiftly. He thinks he might spend hours between her legs if she would permit it, if they were able to steal the time alone. It is a blessing that they have these moments now, considering her popularity in saving the world.
He kisses her, gently, full of tenderness and love, before a short chuckle falls from his mouth. Never let it be said Pahja was short in determination. ]
Yes, yes, I understand.
[ His eyes are glued to her as he watches, letting her do as she pleases with him, trying to ignore the twitch of his cock as her gaze doesn't flicker for a moment. She is overwhelming and he wants more of it, blissful in the knowledge that there is more and more for the two of them to share in the future, that they will have further trysts of this nature. He, the bringer of death and sin, so unworthy but so unwilling to allow her to be with another.
Leaning back, he motions to his robes with a lazy hand. ]
( Once she's finishing with his two fingers she moves onto the other, her mouth demonstrating what she will do to his cock when they have time, when she can hide under his robes and suck him off. At least she'd be able to keep herself quiet like that, allowing herself to imagine a wide range of places they could entertain themselves at.
Letting his fingers drop from her mouth when she's done, his languid gesture makes her roll her eyes -- though it hardly puts her off. )
What, am I to do all the work? ( She says, laughing but unsurprised. This was the man who took a nap beneath the trees, what care had he for simply ridding himself of his clothes when he could let her? But it is a gift, Pahja thinks, like unwrapping something on Starlight Eve.
Leaning forward, Pahja lets her hand brush over his cock, dragging her naiils over the fabric in open anticipation. It's large, and she thanks Emet's foresight to prepare her -- not taking him to the hilt would be unthinkable now. After all, he promised to fuck her until she could think of no one, of nothing else. it's a promise she intends to hold him to. ) For that I think I will take my time.
( And so she does, slowly undressing him and pressing open mouthed kisses to what skin she uncovers -- but when she finally opens his shirt he breath stops in her throat. There's a scar there, ragged around the edges, and Pahja aches not with want but with all of her heart. She knows without thinking that it is the same on his back, an empty hole where she destroyed him. That it should leave such a mark on his flesh-- )
Oh, Emet--
( A whisper, and her hands come to his chest to push his shirt off his shoulders while she peppers his chest with kisses. It is not an apology -- they both know that it had to happen -- but it is an acknowledgment. A prayer for the two of them never to be at odds again. )
[ Watching her is a delight, something wonderful and intense, and his eyes drag over her features and drink her in. Feeling her mouth on his fingers is overwhelming and he is desperate to reach for her and hold her close, to devour her and use her - to be used in return, and he fights back the urge to push her down and simply have her.
They have other plans; that can come at another time. It's clear they both have plans for one another and there's no going back for that. ]
Is that what you think has happened? You have one all the work thus far? [ He scoffs a little, leaning in to kiss along her jaw even as she tries to get at his clothing. Adjusting his body, he leans back and allows her to do as she pleases, reaching for his clothing - and his lips curl into something of a pleased little smirk. ]
Do as you will. I am yours, after all.
[ It's only when she looks down at his bared chest that he remembers what she will see, and his hands reach up to take hers, drawing them to his mouth so he can press kisses against her palm. Emet-Selch shakes his head, shifting her body over his so he can grind against her body, trying to bring her back to the moment. ]
( How can she not think of it, when the scar is pain for her to see? Pahja does not resist as he takes her hands; eyes fixated on the jagged edge as he presses kisses to her palm. It's only when he moves her, when she can feel the hot, hard length of him against her that he succeeds. Which, she ruefully admits, says quite a lot about her overall sense of guilt. She has been responsible for so much pain, so much suffering--
But then again, so has he.
Pahja refocuses, the thinness of her lips vanishing, along with the weight in her eyes. He is asking her and she wants to give him all that he wishes for and more, if it is in her power to -- he will not be left wanting. She swallows thickly, nods, and squeezes his hands.
Focus.
It takes her a moment to push the thought aside, her hands finishing off his shirt and urging him to help shuck it off. )
Mmhm. ( She begins, attempting to find again the lighthearted levity of a moment ago. ) It seemed to me as if you were enjoying the show, tugging the strings to your liking.
( A playful tease; her grin reasserts itself as she rolls her hips down against him, soaking the fabric of his trousers as she does so. Let him feel her, let him ache for her as much as does him; her desire and want already reasserting themselves. She could remain like this, Pahja thinks, and come again just from the feel of him, the length of him, but that would hardly be fair.
So she slinks down off of him, pressing kisses through the center of his scar, down past his navel. Her hands busy themselves with his trousers, finally getting them undone enough to encourage him to lift his hips so that she might finally see him bare before her. )
[ If he could remove it then he would, but there are limitations even to him. A mark to the very core of his being, given to him in the depths of his true form? That is something difficult to erase, difficult to manage, and he has to muster the strength to urge her away from it. Of course she will blame herself, as is her wont, but he has no desire for her apologies nor to offer her forgiveness.
They each carry sins, and he had pushed her to the edge of her own; had been willing to sacrifice her for the greater good. It is only fitting that he should carry this burden to the end of his days, however they may be numbered.
It is not enough to distract them entirely, at least, and he watches as she shifts her body back into motion, accepts what he could never imagine that he deserves. She gives him her love, her affection, her body, and he can do no more than accept it despite his failings. The inexplicable nature of love has consumed him almost entirely.
Shifting his body, he leans in to steal more kisses from her skin, letting himself stroke her fingers along her waist, her hips, hoping to inspire fire within her once more. ]
Did my fingers not move? Did I not hold you against my breast? I aught to leave you to your own manner of pleasure next time.
[ But he won't, of course, especially not when her fingers are busy ridding him of his clothing, shifting him out of his robes and his hips lifting to lick off his trousers, shoes already long gone. ]
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There is joy in it, in knowing that he is wanted, that someone has the heart to care for him knowing al l that he has within him.
Slow, gentle lips trail along her jawline, against the curve of her skin, testing the boundaries of his affection. He cannot find the means to stop nor cease, hands stroking along her waist and hips, his fingers exploring as he listens to her speak - sounding almost as though he might be in awe of her, of all that she carries.
If he were the man who might have the strength to blush he might now, but time has stolen that from him. He can do aught else. ]
All of me. A dangerous request for someone of your... Stature. [ She has seen all of him, and his fingers move, edging by her hips and shifting to settle between her legs. His eyes do not leave her face. ] I am a great deal to take.
[ He barely has the strength to move, to lean forward and kiss her, but his hips shift, just a little, grinding up against the shape of her body. There is no denying his wants now. ]
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Pahja runs her hand through his hair, claws scraping the skin at the nape of his neck gently, so gently. She will be kind to him, she wants to be good for him. To let him shuck the weight of his burdens for a time, to share them to the best of her ability. )
Has nothing I have accomplished proved that I am a woman of my word, yet still you doubt me? ( It is all she manages to get out before the unmistakable hardness of his want steals her breath away, the press of his fingers between her legs a tease that blows her eyes wide and her mouth open as a soft, shaky moan falls from her lips. Luckily he is there to swallow it, and she presses further -- mouth and lips to kiss him deeper, press down against him with another roll of her hips. ) All of you, Hades. Every sin, every burden, every scar on your soul.
( Her fingers drag down the line of his jaw, down his neck -- fingers brushing over his collarbones. But she does not wrap them around his neck, does not look on him with malice or even pity. There is only love in her gaze, in her touch as she rolls her hips once more, gasping at the friction. )
I want it all.
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Desire is not unfamiliar to him, of course, not in the eons that he has lived, but to feel someone so close that he has wanted, that he has yearned for... It makes him a little needier than he might otherwise have been, a little more desperate and yielding to her wants and needs.
Not that he is an inattentive lover, of course.
All of it, that is what she asks for, and his fingers steal under her clothing, no barriers, prepared to push away the seams keeping him from her and devour her entirely. The gentle movement of her hips has him shaking, and he swallows, leaning in to kiss her again. ]
Take your clothing off. Now.
[ Then, breathless - ]
I may not have a soul to show you as we speak, but I have a body.
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His touch has her shaking already, and Pahja swallows heavily against his lips in order to hold herself together or they both will shake apart too soon. She wants to see him come undone this way, whole and hale, than through violence -- but by her hand, still. Curling her fingers into his clothes makes heeding his request difficult, and Pahja kisses him with a desperation she's finally allowing herself to feel: wanting him, losing him, and now -- having him at last. It makes it difficult to separate herself from him.
But she does, gasping as she ends the kiss so that she can strip as quickly as possible. One for flashiness, Pahja curses her taste in clothing as it takes time to shed it all -- and every moment spent not pressed against him is time wasted. )
Even that, Emet -- that will be enough. ( Breathless, she rolls her hips down against him, gasping at the weight and the hardness against her. Close to what she wants, what they want, but not quite. ) On the First I thought-- ( Pahja swallows her hesitation, continuing on-- ) I thought I might love you given time.
( Her tunic is off, cast to the side carelessly. Gooseflesh rises on her bare skin in the coolness of the air; grey-blue skin almost blending into the surrounding stone of Mor Dhona. Next are her gloves, her boots, and finally her shorts and smalls -- though this she does have to life herself up off of him to rid herself of them.
The fact that he remains fully dressed doesn't bother her; she's not a shy woman, and is quick to resettle against his hips and his chest the moment she can, enjoying the feeling of expensive cloth and fur against her bare skin.
Her fingers curl again into his clothes as she pulls him down for another kiss, demanding and accepting all at once. )
Let me see your body then, let me show you how much I love you.
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Emet-Selch is aware that he has been given something of a second chance, the world changed before him and a warrior reaching for him and offering him salvation. The fact that he is now able to watch that self-same warrior undress and share herself with him is a boon he had never anticipated, something he had not dared to dream. Midnight thoughts that wander in the dark is not the same as conscious daydream, his tight control resisting it, but all the same...
Watching her unravel herself, take off her layers and let them drop to the side, is a miracle beyond anything paradise might have offered him.
Careful hands rest on her hips as soon as he is able again, shifting up so that his cock can press against her, wanting more and more of her but still barred by fabric and his own tense self-control. The temptation to lift her by the arm and press her against the wall, to have her that way, crosses his mind once more and he has to force himself to breathe out and remain calm. Another time, perhaps.
Eyes lift as he listens to her speak and his throat goes dry. ] Given time? Has there been time enough, Pahja, or must I beg more of you in future?
[ Pahja settles down against him and he reaches to stretch his fingers over bared skin, her hip, up to her chest, letting his thumb rub on the edge of her. He gives into her kisses because he has no other choice - not when his other hand is already slipping back between her legs, feeling her with no barrier, nothing to keep him from what he wants - to give her the greatest pleasure and feel her fall apart for him and no other.
Emet-Selch has always been selfish.
Nipping her mouth, he hums, the sound tailing into a groan as he realises his own desire, twinned with hers, how much they want one another and how close they are to sharing it. ]
Do whatever you desire with me. I am naught but yours.
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( No, their souls will stay together. A silly pledge to make, perhaps, but is one she would swear by. If there was one thing the past gods-know-how-long has taught her it is that her soul belongs with his and Hythlodaeus.
She would tell him that, if he were not so successful at diverting her thoughts from anything but this: the press of her flesh against his clothes, the feel of his cock against her, the groan that escapes him. Her lower lip catches between her teeth as she endeavors to keep it together long enough to direct him. But he is touching her at last, only serving to make her burn more for him instead of quenching the ache.
Curving into him, Pahja presses open-mouthed kisses along his jaw, letting her fangs drag over the soft, pale skin of his neck. They are not delicate people, the two of them, but she is careful not to break skin. There is a time and a place for roughness, and part of her desperately wants to test their limits, but now... now she just wants to bask in the glory of having him. )
I want to come by your touch. ( That much should be obvious, the way she shifts down against his fingers, wanting more. Like this, she thinks, against his clothes -- if they stain then he will simply have to magic it away. No great feat for him, she's certain. ) And then I would have you strip down and lie there and fuck me until we exhaust ourselves. I want to see your face, Emet.
( She wants to see him lose himself. That is not so big of a request, Pahja thinks, that they can't come to an agreement. )
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[ Her soul found his time and time again, after all, so he has no reason to imagine he might escape her now. The notion of it is one that he cannot fathom, not when he has been brought to her side, not when she has found him and reached for him, loved him, wanted him. Emet-Selch wants nothing more than to keep her with him, to keep the taste of her in his mouth for the eons that lay before them.
There is no hesitation in the way his head tilts for her, allowing her access to his neck and whatever else she might desire. Of course there is no doubt that she wants his clothing gone, just as he has hers, but there is something deliciously decedent about her nakedness against his fabric. It is made all the more delicious for her gentle commentary, the way she speaks and leaves him flushed and wanting.
No hesitation follows his movements, his eyes dark and settled as his fingers finally press between her legs properly, less explorative and more firm. Yes, he is hard, yes, he is wanting, but her pleasure comes first; not only because he wishes it to be so but because she has demanded it, she wants it of him, and Emet-Selch recognises his own desire to serve her to the best of all that he has.
It is a tease at first, of course, because there is no need to rush when they have hours ahead of them, but his lips do curl into a smile. ]
Then come you shall, my love, before I make good use of this ground we have been given.
[ He will fuck her, there is no denying that, and he will make her come again as he does so, but for now his fingers do the work. His freer hand, the one not teasing, settles on her behind and holds her in position, pressing his fingers up properly, his eyes watching her face. He knows how to bring a woman pleasure, knows how to have her fall apart on his fingers, and he does so now - a slow, building pace, testing the waters and letting his thumb press.
Eventually she will get his fingers, eventually he will feel her shake around him, he will taste her, devour her, but for now he wants to learn what she likes, what she enjoys, how much pressure, how fast or slow. ]
You will experience it all.
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His flush is endearing -- she reaches up to trace the bloom of red across his cheekbones before twisting her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. The other curls into the fabric of his clothes, relishing the feeling of it against her skin. Having him naked before her will come, just as sure as she will, but for now she enjoys the decadence of letting him have her bare before him. )
I have no doubt--
( The light touch has her squirming against him in an attempt for more, mouth falling open as she holds his gaze -- golden, tired, and full of want and desire. She can only hope that he can see how much she intends to enjoy this on her own face, cheeks darkening with her own flush, spreading down her neck and over her chest.
When his fingers finally press up and touch her she rewards him with a sharp gasp and a tightening of her fingers. It isn't enough, it won't be enough until he is fingers deep in her. She moves again, a half-hearted protest of the pace he is testing out, rubbing up against his cock as much as she can at the same time. )
Tease. ( She accuses him, mouth turning up into a small smirk as her legs twitch from the press of his thumb against her. ) More. Harder, Emet, I can take it--
( Even if he doesn't, even if he wants to make her squirm and beg for him, Pahja knows he won't leave her unsatisfied. )
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There's no doubt that she knows what she wants, is clear with her desires, and he has no hesitation as he adjusts his own legs to near enough force her legs open for him. She's clinging to him and it's enough to leave him feeling heady and desperate, wanting to tear his clothing off and press her into the ground below them. Luckily, for all that he might jest on the matter, he has mustered some level of patience. ]
Perhaps I am simply enjoying myself.
[ Every sound and expression she makes is delicious and all he can do is drink them in. When his fingers finally move it's with a slow, careful press of his forefinger inside of her, thumb still moving in sure motions, learning her wants, feeling her move and grind against him. One finger is nothing compared to the rest of him, of course, but he will take his time to open her, to prepare her, to ensure that she is drowning in want, pleasure and desire before he takes what is his.
Lips curling, he leans in to kiss her as his finger moves, testing her patience once again - slow, steady, teasing. She can take anything he gives her, there's no denying that, but that doesn't mean he has no want to indulge himself in a lengthy encounter. ]
Is that enough, my love?
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In fairness, neither does he.
It takes a few breathless moments for her to put together words to counter him, voice low and as wanting as her body. )
Am I a meal for you to take your time savoring?
( Not that Pahja would complain. But another time, unless he intends to stretch her to the limits and keep her in agony.
The moan that escapes her as a finger slips in is unabashed, louder than the small groans from earlier -- she is not ashamed of how much she desires him, desires this, and enjoys it. That others might be doesn't occur to her; she simply cares about letting Emet know. Let him hear so that there is no mistake in his mind that she knows it is him, only him.
Not that there could be any doubt now. Pahja relinquishes her vicelike grip on his clothes to slide her hand down, cupping his cock through his clothes. Her mouth stays open when he kisses her as she simply gives him pressure and no friction -- her own tease. She set the rules for this encounter, after all, and giving him anything more would be violating them.
Biting his lip -- the tips of her fangs gently catching his lower lip as she pulls away -- she manages a shake of her head. )
No! No and you-- ( Her grip on his hair tightens, tugging his head down so that she can place wet, open mouthed kisses on his skin. Rolling her hips she attempts to get him to hit deeper, to quicken the teasing pace he's set. ) Oh-- you know that.
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[ And he is genuine with it, watching her as he does with his dark eyes and intense expression. There's no denying that he could devour her if he wished, no matter what form he is in, but he takes his in stride. Her pleasure is paramount, beyond anything else.
In this he has no reason to be difficult, to be exasperated, to be anything more than simply hers. She has brought him back from the brink and he will ignore it no longer.
He is not the type to mind that someone might overhear, that there may be some questions later - he takes pride in the knowledge that she is gaining pleasure from his touch, that she can move against his fingers and demand more of him, to take from him everything that he has to offer. Emet-Selch watches her as she shivers and moves, as she wants from him, and his eyes never move too far from her face.
Leaning into her kisses, he resists the urge to laugh, a sharp little thing in the back of his throat. ]
I know a great deal of you, my Pahja, and I shall learn more in time.
[ It does not take long until he gives her another finger, pressing two inside of her and curling them just a little, enough that he can begin to learn a sense of her best pleasure, where she most wants from him, what he can do to bring her to orgasm before she can tease him into breaking. ]
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Neither would she.
The press of another finger into her has her shaking around him, tightening around his fingers as he curls them -- not enough, she can take more. He knows she can, and the tease has her biting her lip trying to keep herself from chastising him first thing. But the curl does succeed in ripping another moan from her, grip on him tightening. )
Your Pahja? I-- I like the sound of that. ( A breath, her chest heaving with the effort it takes to form words. She shifts her hips slightly so he can hit deeper and her voice catches with a soft moan. That it also means she rubs against his cock is a side benefit. ) Yours, then. Unless you-- ( Another roll of her hips to adjust the curve of his fingers. ) Ah! Un--unless you continue to tease!
( Not that Pahja minds. It's just as enjoyable as rushing quickly into it, this dragging it on and making her wait. Even if he is a tease. )
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He is well aware of the fact that the rest of her peers do not approve; they are not particularly keen on anything to do with him, on anything that he might give to her or offer her. To them he is nothing more than a monster. The fact that she has been able to see beyond that; that she has still decided to want and love him is a blessing. He will not let anyone come between them.
Emet-Selch is well aware of how much she can take, but he is careful, nudging her towards pleasure with careful movements of his fingers. His expression is set, determined, ignoring his own wants and desires to focus on her, to try and not to shake and shiver as she grinds against the hard outline of his cock. It makes him ache, wanting her, desperately, but he resists.
She comes first - in all ways. ]
You would, possessive creature that you are. [ His lips twist, smirking, as he leans down to kiss along her jawline, scraping his teeth against her skin. ]
I am not teasing. I am preparing.
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( Oh. He is rather larger than her, Pahja struck by the sudden realization with what that implies, but a stray thought enters her mind for a moment that she can't help but voice, head falling to the side to give him all the access to her neck that he needs. )
Not-- not to distract you or anything but, later-- ( A shudder, panting her words now as she shifts against him. There is a burning heat in her that only he can quench and she wants, she wants him to bury his fingers in her and then his cock until she can think of nothing else. ) I'll take you like this, Emet, and then you can prepare me more and I'll have you transformed too, if you have a cock and even if you don't, just keep going--
( She's babbling through the soft sounds of wants, breaking off into a small keen. Focus, Pahja tries to tell herself, focus. And try to get him to break. )
You'll ruin me, won't you? I will never take another lover, not after you, not after having your fingers and your cock, your love--
( Possessive and greedy. Pahja continues to move against his fingers as if she has something to prove, trying to see if she can get him to brush a fingers across her clit -- something, anything. It's close but it's not enough and if he's going to insist on taking his time preparing she will make it as hard for him as it is for her, pun intended. )
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She is too soft, too gentle, but he wants her, all of her, to keep and to claim and to have for as long as she will permit. The fact that she is so very willing to take him in all ways that he can offer. As she continues to speak it feels as though he is getting harder and harder, his voice coming out with a sort little moan. ]
You have no desire to distract me but speak of taking me in the fullest of forms? I could break you, dearest Pahja, I could tear you in half with the size of me, and you still think on it? You saw me-
[ He leans forward, his back awkwardly bent as he shoves his face into her neck and breathes her in. He's shaky with it, wanting more of her, wanting to take her, own her, but all he can do is swallow. ]
No one else will ever touch you. No one else will ever have you the way I have, for as long as I shall live beside you. I am going to fuck you so hard that you will never even dream of another man nor woman touching you.
[ His other hand finally moves away from her hip and slips around as a third finger nudges at her; his other thumb begins to rub over her clit gently, beginning to move harder, faster, more intensely, all to see her come for him. ]
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( He steals her words away by the sheer force of his want, his desire, and she can feel that she is close now, but not there yet. His hands work wonders against her, inside of her, and perhaps it was so greedy of her to ask him to have nothing while she has everything but oh, she doesn't regret it. Pahja will pay him back tenfold through whatever means he would ask of her for this moment, for her naked against his chest, clinging to his clothes as desperation overtakes them.
It takes a moment for her to adjust to his fingers, to the pace he sets, but then she moves with him, chasing the nearing high while trying, however vainly, to make sure his cock is not completely abandoned, be it the friction of her moving against him or the rough bump as she meets the thrust of his hands. )
No one else, Emet. I see you. I saw you, and I want-- Oh! Emet, Emet-- ( She cracks, but it doesn't feel like desperation -- it feels like freedom. ) Hades, please--
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Tear me in half, she says, and the urge to do it is so present that he doesn't know what to do with himself. He already knows that he is larger than she is, that he is simply a greater size than perhaps she might be used to - he cares not what she might have had in the past - but he wants to be the biggest and the last. He wants to keep her, for as long as she will allow, a desperate little niggling in the back of his mind.
His fingers do not stop. His hand does not stop. His thumb presses into her clit as his fingers move, beginning to move harder and faster, fucking her with his fingers where he cannot with his cock just yet. Emet-Selch - no, Hades, in this moment more himself than he has ever been - fucks her with all that he has, teeth scraping over the skin of her collarbone as he moans her name, low and deep in the back of his throat.
He needs this, as much as she does. ]
Come for me, Pahja.
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-- instead opening her eyes to catch his gaze as long as she can, mouth falling open and soft moans escaping with every press of his fingers, every time his thumb runs over her clit. She is not one to insult those she's slept with, but already Emet is establishing himself as one of the most fulfilling -- he is eager and wanting and her's. No doubt he will steel the crown completely ere long. )
Oh-- ( Her voice catches, a hitch as she feels herself nearing the crest. Pahja's hands scramble to hold onto him, vicelike. Her moans are louder now, thought nearly fled until all she can think of is him, of Emet-Selch, and it is all she has wanted, all she needs.
It's his words against her skin that sends her over the edge with a loud cry, ) Hades! ( As she falls apart, uncaring of the echoing, ringing sound that someone might have heard -- it is for his ears in the end and Pahja wants to know how much pleasure he's brought her, how much she adores him. Loves him, for she does. Her eyes flutter shut as the wave of pleasure hits her, mouth still open as he continues to move his fingers in her, soft sounds of satisfaction escaping her until she comes back to herself enough to do anything more than simply bask in it.
Oh, how she adores him -- Pahja reaches up to brush his hair away from his face, eyes brimming with love as she presses her lips to whatever skin she can reach, only slightly teasing with the drag of her fangs along his pale, flushed skin. )
Thank you, my love.
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Her voice rises and his eyes stay glued to her face, unable to flicker away for even the briefest of moments. He dares not even blink for fear of missing something. ] Yes, my love.
[ Hearing her say his name - his true name - as she comes apart is a delight, and he draws her closer as she does, not stopping the movement of his fingers until she gives him an indication to do so. No, he watches her with soft eyes instead, drinking her in and letting his expression shift into something softer. Let the entirety of Mor Dhona hear her as she falls apart for him; he is smug enough to enjoy it.
All of this is theirs, no one else's.
Leaning forward, he kisses her gently. ]
The pleasure was mine.
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You spoil me. But I won't have you dressed for much longer.
( Just long enough for her to catch her breath, the sweat barely drying on her skin in the cool air. But-- Here Pahja's grin turns wicked, eyes gleaming with mischief as she takes his hand to her face before taking two of his fingers into her mouth, sliding her tongue around them as she sucks them clean -- her eyes locked with his as she does so.
There is so much still she wants to do with him, for him. Serious about her desire to have him transformed, it only scratched the surface of what she wants to experience with him, sucking him off, pegging him, letting him eat her out under the stars. Once she thought she would never have the chance. Now, however, she does -- and Pahja intends on making up for lost time. Perhaps she could convince him to travel with her as she follows his long list of things to explore, things to discover. Perhaps she will finally need to have a home to leave him at so that she might have someone to come back to.
Whatever the future holds, she knows he has a place in it, if he chooses. )
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He kisses her, gently, full of tenderness and love, before a short chuckle falls from his mouth. Never let it be said Pahja was short in determination. ]
Yes, yes, I understand.
[ His eyes are glued to her as he watches, letting her do as she pleases with him, trying to ignore the twitch of his cock as her gaze doesn't flicker for a moment. She is overwhelming and he wants more of it, blissful in the knowledge that there is more and more for the two of them to share in the future, that they will have further trysts of this nature. He, the bringer of death and sin, so unworthy but so unwilling to allow her to be with another.
Leaning back, he motions to his robes with a lazy hand. ]
Consider me at your service, my dear hero.
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Letting his fingers drop from her mouth when she's done, his languid gesture makes her roll her eyes -- though it hardly puts her off. )
What, am I to do all the work? ( She says, laughing but unsurprised. This was the man who took a nap beneath the trees, what care had he for simply ridding himself of his clothes when he could let her? But it is a gift, Pahja thinks, like unwrapping something on Starlight Eve.
Leaning forward, Pahja lets her hand brush over his cock, dragging her naiils over the fabric in open anticipation. It's large, and she thanks Emet's foresight to prepare her -- not taking him to the hilt would be unthinkable now. After all, he promised to fuck her until she could think of no one, of nothing else. it's a promise she intends to hold him to. ) For that I think I will take my time.
( And so she does, slowly undressing him and pressing open mouthed kisses to what skin she uncovers -- but when she finally opens his shirt he breath stops in her throat. There's a scar there, ragged around the edges, and Pahja aches not with want but with all of her heart. She knows without thinking that it is the same on his back, an empty hole where she destroyed him. That it should leave such a mark on his flesh-- )
Oh, Emet--
( A whisper, and her hands come to his chest to push his shirt off his shoulders while she peppers his chest with kisses. It is not an apology -- they both know that it had to happen -- but it is an acknowledgment. A prayer for the two of them never to be at odds again. )
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They have other plans; that can come at another time. It's clear they both have plans for one another and there's no going back for that. ]
Is that what you think has happened? You have one all the work thus far? [ He scoffs a little, leaning in to kiss along her jaw even as she tries to get at his clothing. Adjusting his body, he leans back and allows her to do as she pleases, reaching for his clothing - and his lips curl into something of a pleased little smirk. ]
Do as you will. I am yours, after all.
[ It's only when she looks down at his bared chest that he remembers what she will see, and his hands reach up to take hers, drawing them to his mouth so he can press kisses against her palm. Emet-Selch shakes his head, shifting her body over his so he can grind against her body, trying to bring her back to the moment. ]
Think not of it, Pahja. Please, just... Go on.
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But then again, so has he.
Pahja refocuses, the thinness of her lips vanishing, along with the weight in her eyes. He is asking her and she wants to give him all that he wishes for and more, if it is in her power to -- he will not be left wanting. She swallows thickly, nods, and squeezes his hands.
Focus.
It takes her a moment to push the thought aside, her hands finishing off his shirt and urging him to help shuck it off. )
Mmhm. ( She begins, attempting to find again the lighthearted levity of a moment ago. ) It seemed to me as if you were enjoying the show, tugging the strings to your liking.
( A playful tease; her grin reasserts itself as she rolls her hips down against him, soaking the fabric of his trousers as she does so. Let him feel her, let him ache for her as much as does him; her desire and want already reasserting themselves. She could remain like this, Pahja thinks, and come again just from the feel of him, the length of him, but that would hardly be fair.
So she slinks down off of him, pressing kisses through the center of his scar, down past his navel. Her hands busy themselves with his trousers, finally getting them undone enough to encourage him to lift his hips so that she might finally see him bare before her. )
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They each carry sins, and he had pushed her to the edge of her own; had been willing to sacrifice her for the greater good. It is only fitting that he should carry this burden to the end of his days, however they may be numbered.
It is not enough to distract them entirely, at least, and he watches as she shifts her body back into motion, accepts what he could never imagine that he deserves. She gives him her love, her affection, her body, and he can do no more than accept it despite his failings. The inexplicable nature of love has consumed him almost entirely.
Shifting his body, he leans in to steal more kisses from her skin, letting himself stroke her fingers along her waist, her hips, hoping to inspire fire within her once more. ]
Did my fingers not move? Did I not hold you against my breast? I aught to leave you to your own manner of pleasure next time.
[ But he won't, of course, especially not when her fingers are busy ridding him of his clothing, shifting him out of his robes and his hips lifting to lick off his trousers, shoes already long gone. ]
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