[ There is so much of her left to explore and that is something he makes note of - he wants to see how she is when she completely falls apart, when his fingers touch and tease her tail, her ears, her skin - everything that she has. But they've time for that, in the future; one they have decided upon together.
It's hard not to shiver as she begins to sink down onto him, letting herself rest against him as she does so. It feels remarkable, divine, almost, for a man who has little religious devotion - but he would worship her and her body were he given the chance to do so. His arms wrap around her, holding her, anchoring her, as he breathes out sharp little noises.
It is very difficult not to begin to thrust into her with all abandon, but he musters his self-control for her sake.
Emet-Selch is no small feat to take, he is aware of that, larger all the more for his true form, so it will take a moment or two. When she looks upon him, lets her eyes open, he shifts his hips just a little, what small part he can tease before she begins to move. ]
Ruination you shall have, then, my love, for all that you desire is mine to bring.
[ His hands move down to her hips, grip strong, and he helps her move, his hips lifting up to meet her and begin to thrust, giving her anything - everything - she could want. ]
( Every small noise he makes shoots another wave of hot need through her, the desire to swallow every one and keep them tucked away in her chest like some greedy hoarder hard to combat. But why should she? He is her's, all the sounds he makes are her's. Now and until they return to the Lifestream.
All she desires? Well, they'll have time for that -- she's far too busy with other things to create a list of everything she would want. The small tease has her shuddering, shivering in anticipation as she stretches around him, fits to him.
Perfect. He feels perfect; Pahja doesn't particularly believe in perfection when it comes to sex as much as she does fun and enjoyment. However, Emet makes her think she might have found something close. With every thrust he makes she can't help but moan and gasp, sighing in bliss with a particularly good thrust, tightening around his cock. )
Oh, oh Emet-- Twelve forfend, I should have told you to take me on the First if I knew how good you'd feel. How good your cock would make me feel--
( Pahja's back to babbling. Earlier though it seemed like Emet hand't minded, so Pahja lets herself bask in it without shame, pressing kisses to his face where she can between gasps and moans -- one hand going to his shoulder to steady herself as she attempts to pick up the pace, to encourage him to go faster, harder. )
We would have been watched, you know, we would have-- ( A longer, deeper moan as she adjusts the angle to have him hit deeper. ) I would have wanted them to so they knew that it was you I wanted.
[ Bliss settles through him, making his blood feel warm and his face flush with it, an intensity of it that makes him unable to do more than move with her, to let his fingers trace the shape of her body, to allow himself the pleasure and delight of feeling as though he belongs. He wishes to cherish this feeling, to allow himself the wonderful chance to be loved and wanted and pleasured all at once, the remarkable gift that only she is able to offer him.
There is more for them in the future, and he knows that - the notion that there might be more trysts like this one, that he might have her in a bed, a bath, against a wall, on top of her or below her - anything sounds like a miracle beyond reckoning.
For now, he settles with the gleeful happiness that comes with hearing her speak for him, hearing her soft noises and pleased moans, shivering with the feeling of her grinding against him and moving on his cock, stealing her pleasure and taking it for his own, his own little huffs of want blushing against her neck.
One hand moves away from her hips, allowing her movement, and sinks into her hair all the same. ]
Do you think I would have taken you? I would have been too sour, too buried in grief for any pleasure. Though, I fear this might have turned me - [ His other hand, the one not stroking through her hair, brushes against her clit gently.
Would she? Perhaps, perhaps not, but it is an interesting game to imagine.
Turning his lead to leave more kisses on her skin, her collarbone, to scrape his teeth there, he huffs a little laugh. ]
Are there any other pleasures you desire that I should be aware of?
( This is everything she could have wanted and more, the way they move together that has her shuddering, gasping. His hands and his grip are strong; she needs not doubt him in any way -- in life, in love, in this moment of pleasure. That she can finally have him, embrace him, is a gift she will not waste.
Venat's final gift for her.
Though she wonders if the woman expected this from them at all. It's a thought that Emet pushes out of her head with the way he sounds, the way he moves. Pahja allows herself to fall away from thoughts of anything but this, anything but the way Emet feels in her, moving with her. The way he sounds against her neck -- her fingers sliding through his hair to tug and encourage. )
If I had asked, if I had begged, if I had called for you while touching myself alone in my room -- would you have come? Would you have watched me fall apart for you, knowing that-- oh ( She trails off into another groan of want. ) Knowing that the Exarch was watching, always watching and wanting.
( There is no sadness at throwing G'raha under the bus now, for he has ever been transparent in his affections. But she does not want him, she has never desired him like she does Emet-Selch. Hades.
He brushes her clit and Pahja shakes, a moan falling from her lips so loud she thinks she might have scared away any bird that had wandered too close to them. His touch, his kisses, his teeth have her desperate and wanting as she moves, chasing pleasure and hoping beyond hope he can find it too.
Pahja wants to bring him to a moment where he can set his burdens aside, to think of nothing but pleasure and want. It would be her gift to him, a testament to her love. )
What, besides my want to take you transformed? To be filled completely by your cock-- ( Another gasp as she speeds up slightly, hands grasping at him almost desperately to hold him there as she continues to babble. ) You could take me on the throne of Garlemald. I could take you, bent over some desk or on a table. Would you want me dressed in silks and gold, gems and jewels, dancing for you until you cannot help but have me. Bend me over a railing and fuck me in full view of anyone who looks up, Emet, I want all of you. Every pleasure, please Emet.
[ Emet-Selch has always been strong with Aether, with power, but he feels like nothing in the midst of this, how weak and desperate he is for her above all others, above all else. The fact that she is able to destroy him from the inside out, that she has gripped his heart with all the power of her self and beyond... It is something that makes him want to completely fall apart into her.
Is that what this is, he wonders. Is this what it means to be loved, to love, to have and be wanted in return? It is something he has not have for eons, something he had thought long gone and out of reach for him now, buried with memories of friends lost to ages, to death and pain.
When Pahja looks at him, touches him, whispers his name, he feels complete for the first time in a long time. ]
I would have killed him first. [ He leans close, voice soft and low. ] Unless that was your desire. To know someone who wanted to have you could not, to tease them with the promise of something that could never be theirs as I took it? To know that I was the one bringing you pleasure and they could only wish, could only watch with a hand around themselves and nothing else -
[ He groans, low and deep in his chest as he draws her closer, letting himself touch her where he is learning she best likes, letting himself bring her pleasure once again. He wants her to fall apart for him and no one else, even if they play games - that other people might watch, see, might hear. None of that matters when she is with him, around his cock, falling apart with his pleasure alongside her own.
He cannot help a breathless laugh, however, as - ]
My cock would rip you into pieces, my love. You would never survive it.
( It is, she would tell him if she knew. How horrible it is that he has forgotten what it was like, how the thousands of years alone had stolen even this memory from him -- she will make it so that he will never forget, not in this life and not in the others they will have.
For Pahja does not intent on letting him go; they will journey to the star together, and they will be reborn into it together.
That he would kill someone for daring to watch her take her own pleasure should concern her far more than it does, but she allows herself a moment to bask in the possessiveness, as if she would want anyone else to see her like his. But he continues, voice deep and she can't help but shudder around him, one of her hands going to his shoulder to steady her as she moves against him still, picking up the pace to something faster. )
Only if it were you, Emet, only if you were the one touching me, taking me. Fucking me hard enough and often enough that there could be no mistake of who I desire, who's name I cry and moan, Emet-- Emet.
( The idea has her moaning, although there's a bubble of laughter too, warm and happy as she moves. She can feel herself tightening around him as they move, gasping with every thrust. If he is large now -- and he is -- then what he could be nearly has her giddy with the thought of it. Of more, of having the chance to know every inch of him. )
I would die happy, Hades, I would-- it would be worth it.
[ A little game, fantasies that may never come to realisation, but worth thinking on all the same. A possessive being like Emet-Selch would be loathe to share Pahja with anyone, not even the sight of her in all her bare glory, but for her? He would bend, would allow her to have his cock and another's eyes, allow her to make any kind of demand.
For her he would do anything, and perhaps it ought to frighten him, but it does not.
All it does is make him moan, his hands holding on to her as he thrusts up, grinding her on his cock and pushing as deep as he can muster, all for the want of her pleasure. His is secondary to what he feels of her, to feel her coming for him and him alone.
His lips trace her skin, against her jawline and neck, before he breathes, soft and warm against her. ]
Perhaps we shall work you to it. Tease you, play with you, with larger and larger mechanics until you are fit and ready for the weight of me.
( He talks and she moves faster against him, desperate, losing herself in the feel of him in her, a heavy weight that she takes eagerly -- how kind of him to be as large as he is so that there is no part of her he doesn't fill, pushing her to new heights of pleasure. Pahja moans with each thrust, each word of his that she takes as a promise.
His breath is warm, welcoming, as are his lips -- now that she has him she will never, ever let him go far. She loses herself in it, in his voice, at the picture he builds and the pleasure that increases with every moment. )
Yes! Yes, please, Hades -- I would be... I would be so good, I would take everything you give me until I was ready for you. Ruin me, destroy me, gods above I won't rest until you do-- ( Pahja slips a hand between them, between her folds to stroke at her clit in time with his thrusts. It has her moaning, almost mewling in pleasure, as overwhelmed by him as she is.
His bite has her shuddering, her moans loud enough to surely echo over the stone. Let them know -- she cares not, only that Emet continues to fuck her, continues to be solid and real against her skin. The ecstasy builds as she tightens around his cock, pulling him as deep as she can with one sharp snap of her hips. ) Please! Hades-- Hades!
( Pahja comes with a shout and a shudder, breaking around him as her back arches and she can think of nothing but him -- filling her, touching her, the warmth of his breath and his lips against her skin. It's overwhelming, all of it, and she gladly loses herself to it with no second thoughts. The small, present part of her keeps her moving, keeps fucking him through it so that he can lose himself in her.
When enough of her mind has returned Pahja lets her forehead fall to his shoulder, fingers running through his hair as she matches him thrust for thrust, voice falling into a whisper. )
Hades, my Hades. I do love you.
( Utterly, and if it means her downfall then so be it. )
[ It is hard to bite back the things that he wants to say to her, the whispers he would put into her ear if he had the forethought to do it - but distracted as he is, with the warmth of her, the tightness of her, the way she moves over him? It is impossible to do anything but focus on her, on her movements, on her, as she is, the wonder that is Pahja.
His soul yearns for her, wants her, and there is no denying the fulfilling sense he has of it all with her so close. He feels a contentment he has not felt in years, in eons, even, knowing that he has finally found the place he best belongs, the place he has been meant to find. For all their suffering, all their sadness, he has finally found a place to lay his heart to rest.
Lips press against her ear as he whispers to her, filthy and honest with his voice deep and hoarse. ]
We might start with fingers alone, then I can make you things in the shape of my cock, growing larger and larger until you might take me as I am, enough to tear you in two if you are not careful. I would push you to the edge of your limits, stretch you around my cock until you are completely unable to do anything except moan for me, breathless and wanton.
[ But she continues to move and he can feel it, her hand between them, her fingers moving, her body tight around him - and he is completely and utterly destroyed by it. His hands move down to hold her by her ass, to grip there as she grinds down against him.
When she comes it feels like a revelation, as though he has once again ascended, and all he can do is lean over her, pull her against his chest and grind up against her. It is hardly going to take him long to join her - and it doesn't, not when she tells him that she loves him, offering him her heart, and he makes a soft, pained little noise as he thrusts up into her again, hands gripping tight.
As he comes, shaking and shivering from the strength of it, from want and love and desire and pure joy and pleasure, he hides his face against her to disguise the tears filling his eyes. ]
( He promises her the world, to break her so exquisitely all of her burns with anticipation, with love for the man who she trusts to both break her and put her back together again. They have sought each other's ends and in doing so, become closer than anyone except for the other knows. The Scions might suspect, but what they know they will never understand.
So Pahja holds onto him as he comes, feels him shaking and breaking beneath her and keeps moving until he ceases. There is nothing but love in the way her fingers stroke through his hair, hold his face into the crook of her neck for as long as he needs -- she can feel the wetness there that has nothing to do with the sweat covering them both.
Such vulnerability strikes the heart of her, and she will not mock him for it nor call attention to it when he so desperately wishes to keep it from her. Catching her own breath, it's a few long, gentle, soft moments before she speaks, keeping him pressed to her, fingers still running through his hair. )
We can stay here as long as you'd like. I am not needed elsewhere.
( And she loves him -- where he is is where she wishes to be. )
[ Emet-Selch might not have broken so surely if it were anyone else, if he was not so vulnerable with this woman, but Pahja has developed the power to undo him completely. It makes him a little less secure in himself, a little less distant, because all he wants is nothing more than to please her, to show her the love and affection that she best deserves.
It is impossible not to break knowing that, knowing that he has found a place to belong, that when her arms wrap around her there is nothing that is going to tear them apart. They are two of the strongest beings that exist in this world, if not the strongest; no one could dare even try to slip between them.
Breathing out, he draws her closer against his body, rests against her with his eyes slipping closed, forcing himself to not break into pieces. Yes, she might have the strength to put him back together again, but ought he do that to her? It is unjust.
Unkind, even, to place such a burden on another.
Shaking his head, he tucks his face against her neck, breath coming out soft and slow. ]
( Her hands comb through his hair, keeping him there and soothing whatever plagues him, weighs him down. They might understand each other better now, after everything they've been through, the lengths of which they've gone to undo each other and save each other. If he breaks she will put him together piece by piece, no matter how difficult the task might be.
It is the least she can do for him after killing him, after inflicting the pain of knowing the future, of losing that.
Pahja sighs, happy, satisfied, and rests her head against his. )
And I, you. In this life and any others. All others.
( It may be a silly promise, but Pahja considers the evidence stacked in her favor. One day their souls will be reborn -- and they will find each other again. She's certain of it.
The chill comes as the sweat cools on her skin, but Pahja ignores it in favor for the warmth of his skin, the warmth of his embrace, and the heat of his love. It is enough to keep her here with him, and as silly as it might be, a low contented purr starts up in her chest -- tail curling around them both. )
[ Once upon a time he might have thought himself pathetic for such a thing, for allowing himself to break apart in such a way when he is quite literally still entangled with a woman, but there is no need for shame in this moment. When it comes to Pahja there is no reason to feel anything other than relieved and relaxed, because she accepts him as is, she understands him, and knows the reason for his emotion.
It is not as if he is broken in half for her; it is simply that he is, in fact, repaired. She is the one who has done the mending.
His nose nudges against hers as he leans in to steal a kiss, his smile settling on his face. ]
Such a bold promise, my love. One I shall cling to.
[ Shifting, Emet-Selch lifts his hand and snaps his fingers; a blanket seems to drop around them and he shifts, tucking it against Pahja before he smiles, fingers brushing gently through her hair. He is made for tenderness with her, he thinks, and there is no forgetting that. ]
Do all of your kind purr, or are you once again a unique creature?
( That he can smile with her -- it warms her heart just as much as the blanket does, as much as the embrace of his arms. They might not have untangled themselves, but Pahja is in no rush. They have time, as long as they need, and she would rather rest against his chest than wander Mor Dhona.
Her lips twitch up into another smile, pressing a returning kiss to the corner of his mouth. Stealing kisses like a teenager -- she would never have thought it of the both of them. )
Only some. ( At least amongst her family and the others that kept to the same area of the Shroud. ) I am one of the lucky number who was gifted with an indicator of mood beyond ears and tail.
( Her purrs grow louder still, which she is fine with for once. Let Emet know how much she enjoys being here, with him. )
[ It's hard not to laugh, to bite back the soft noises that come from his mouth as he keeps her close, tucking her against his body. He can be warm with this, at least, let her love and her affection fill up the emptiness inside of him until there's nothing left to feel sorry about.
Her nose nudges against his and he sighs softly, eyes closing and smiling fondly. ]
Another thing for me to keep an eye on in future, then.
[ This time he does laugh - because it is precious, adorable. Wonderful. ]
( His laughter makes her beam, wide and unashamed as she pulls back to make sure he can tell how joyful she is; there are wounds on his heart she knows she cannot begin to understand, to heal. But to see him begin to do so himself brings a smile to her face -- it is the smaller things, the little joys that make the sorrow easier to bear. )
Mm. You have all the time you like to catalogue the strange behaviors of the Warrior of Light. ( A pause, her hands coming up to cup his face, running her thumbs over his cheekbones. ) Thank you. For being willing to stay with me.
[ It's a simple enough thing. Yes, he could have returned to the end, could have allowed himself to move into the afterlife and be happy, but he would not have been content. He would have been too focussed, too sentient.
( She wouldn't begrudge him that. Besides, he often complains about the weariness in his soul -- Pahja, for one, would not begrudge him waiting until she had passed into the Lifestream to be reunited. He has earned his rest, she thinks.
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It's hard not to shiver as she begins to sink down onto him, letting herself rest against him as she does so. It feels remarkable, divine, almost, for a man who has little religious devotion - but he would worship her and her body were he given the chance to do so. His arms wrap around her, holding her, anchoring her, as he breathes out sharp little noises.
It is very difficult not to begin to thrust into her with all abandon, but he musters his self-control for her sake.
Emet-Selch is no small feat to take, he is aware of that, larger all the more for his true form, so it will take a moment or two. When she looks upon him, lets her eyes open, he shifts his hips just a little, what small part he can tease before she begins to move. ]
Ruination you shall have, then, my love, for all that you desire is mine to bring.
[ His hands move down to her hips, grip strong, and he helps her move, his hips lifting up to meet her and begin to thrust, giving her anything - everything - she could want. ]
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All she desires? Well, they'll have time for that -- she's far too busy with other things to create a list of everything she would want. The small tease has her shuddering, shivering in anticipation as she stretches around him, fits to him.
Perfect. He feels perfect; Pahja doesn't particularly believe in perfection when it comes to sex as much as she does fun and enjoyment. However, Emet makes her think she might have found something close. With every thrust he makes she can't help but moan and gasp, sighing in bliss with a particularly good thrust, tightening around his cock. )
Oh, oh Emet-- Twelve forfend, I should have told you to take me on the First if I knew how good you'd feel. How good your cock would make me feel--
( Pahja's back to babbling. Earlier though it seemed like Emet hand't minded, so Pahja lets herself bask in it without shame, pressing kisses to his face where she can between gasps and moans -- one hand going to his shoulder to steady herself as she attempts to pick up the pace, to encourage him to go faster, harder. )
We would have been watched, you know, we would have-- ( A longer, deeper moan as she adjusts the angle to have him hit deeper. ) I would have wanted them to so they knew that it was you I wanted.
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There is more for them in the future, and he knows that - the notion that there might be more trysts like this one, that he might have her in a bed, a bath, against a wall, on top of her or below her - anything sounds like a miracle beyond reckoning.
For now, he settles with the gleeful happiness that comes with hearing her speak for him, hearing her soft noises and pleased moans, shivering with the feeling of her grinding against him and moving on his cock, stealing her pleasure and taking it for his own, his own little huffs of want blushing against her neck.
One hand moves away from her hips, allowing her movement, and sinks into her hair all the same. ]
Do you think I would have taken you? I would have been too sour, too buried in grief for any pleasure. Though, I fear this might have turned me - [ His other hand, the one not stroking through her hair, brushes against her clit gently.
Would she? Perhaps, perhaps not, but it is an interesting game to imagine.
Turning his lead to leave more kisses on her skin, her collarbone, to scrape his teeth there, he huffs a little laugh. ]
Are there any other pleasures you desire that I should be aware of?
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Venat's final gift for her.
Though she wonders if the woman expected this from them at all. It's a thought that Emet pushes out of her head with the way he sounds, the way he moves. Pahja allows herself to fall away from thoughts of anything but this, anything but the way Emet feels in her, moving with her. The way he sounds against her neck -- her fingers sliding through his hair to tug and encourage. )
If I had asked, if I had begged, if I had called for you while touching myself alone in my room -- would you have come? Would you have watched me fall apart for you, knowing that-- oh ( She trails off into another groan of want. ) Knowing that the Exarch was watching, always watching and wanting.
( There is no sadness at throwing G'raha under the bus now, for he has ever been transparent in his affections. But she does not want him, she has never desired him like she does Emet-Selch. Hades.
He brushes her clit and Pahja shakes, a moan falling from her lips so loud she thinks she might have scared away any bird that had wandered too close to them. His touch, his kisses, his teeth have her desperate and wanting as she moves, chasing pleasure and hoping beyond hope he can find it too.
Pahja wants to bring him to a moment where he can set his burdens aside, to think of nothing but pleasure and want. It would be her gift to him, a testament to her love. )
What, besides my want to take you transformed? To be filled completely by your cock-- ( Another gasp as she speeds up slightly, hands grasping at him almost desperately to hold him there as she continues to babble. ) You could take me on the throne of Garlemald. I could take you, bent over some desk or on a table. Would you want me dressed in silks and gold, gems and jewels, dancing for you until you cannot help but have me. Bend me over a railing and fuck me in full view of anyone who looks up, Emet, I want all of you. Every pleasure, please Emet.
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Is that what this is, he wonders. Is this what it means to be loved, to love, to have and be wanted in return? It is something he has not have for eons, something he had thought long gone and out of reach for him now, buried with memories of friends lost to ages, to death and pain.
When Pahja looks at him, touches him, whispers his name, he feels complete for the first time in a long time. ]
I would have killed him first. [ He leans close, voice soft and low. ] Unless that was your desire. To know someone who wanted to have you could not, to tease them with the promise of something that could never be theirs as I took it? To know that I was the one bringing you pleasure and they could only wish, could only watch with a hand around themselves and nothing else -
[ He groans, low and deep in his chest as he draws her closer, letting himself touch her where he is learning she best likes, letting himself bring her pleasure once again. He wants her to fall apart for him and no one else, even if they play games - that other people might watch, see, might hear. None of that matters when she is with him, around his cock, falling apart with his pleasure alongside her own.
He cannot help a breathless laugh, however, as - ]
My cock would rip you into pieces, my love. You would never survive it.
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For Pahja does not intent on letting him go; they will journey to the star together, and they will be reborn into it together.
That he would kill someone for daring to watch her take her own pleasure should concern her far more than it does, but she allows herself a moment to bask in the possessiveness, as if she would want anyone else to see her like his. But he continues, voice deep and she can't help but shudder around him, one of her hands going to his shoulder to steady her as she moves against him still, picking up the pace to something faster. )
Only if it were you, Emet, only if you were the one touching me, taking me. Fucking me hard enough and often enough that there could be no mistake of who I desire, who's name I cry and moan, Emet-- Emet.
( The idea has her moaning, although there's a bubble of laughter too, warm and happy as she moves. She can feel herself tightening around him as they move, gasping with every thrust. If he is large now -- and he is -- then what he could be nearly has her giddy with the thought of it. Of more, of having the chance to know every inch of him. )
I would die happy, Hades, I would-- it would be worth it.
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For her he would do anything, and perhaps it ought to frighten him, but it does not.
All it does is make him moan, his hands holding on to her as he thrusts up, grinding her on his cock and pushing as deep as he can muster, all for the want of her pleasure. His is secondary to what he feels of her, to feel her coming for him and him alone.
His lips trace her skin, against her jawline and neck, before he breathes, soft and warm against her. ]
Perhaps we shall work you to it. Tease you, play with you, with larger and larger mechanics until you are fit and ready for the weight of me.
[ He bites, gently, then harder, at her skin. ]
I will ruin you.
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His breath is warm, welcoming, as are his lips -- now that she has him she will never, ever let him go far. She loses herself in it, in his voice, at the picture he builds and the pleasure that increases with every moment. )
Yes! Yes, please, Hades -- I would be... I would be so good, I would take everything you give me until I was ready for you. Ruin me, destroy me, gods above I won't rest until you do-- ( Pahja slips a hand between them, between her folds to stroke at her clit in time with his thrusts. It has her moaning, almost mewling in pleasure, as overwhelmed by him as she is.
His bite has her shuddering, her moans loud enough to surely echo over the stone. Let them know -- she cares not, only that Emet continues to fuck her, continues to be solid and real against her skin. The ecstasy builds as she tightens around his cock, pulling him as deep as she can with one sharp snap of her hips. ) Please! Hades-- Hades!
( Pahja comes with a shout and a shudder, breaking around him as her back arches and she can think of nothing but him -- filling her, touching her, the warmth of his breath and his lips against her skin. It's overwhelming, all of it, and she gladly loses herself to it with no second thoughts. The small, present part of her keeps her moving, keeps fucking him through it so that he can lose himself in her.
When enough of her mind has returned Pahja lets her forehead fall to his shoulder, fingers running through his hair as she matches him thrust for thrust, voice falling into a whisper. )
Hades, my Hades. I do love you.
( Utterly, and if it means her downfall then so be it. )
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His soul yearns for her, wants her, and there is no denying the fulfilling sense he has of it all with her so close. He feels a contentment he has not felt in years, in eons, even, knowing that he has finally found the place he best belongs, the place he has been meant to find. For all their suffering, all their sadness, he has finally found a place to lay his heart to rest.
Lips press against her ear as he whispers to her, filthy and honest with his voice deep and hoarse. ]
We might start with fingers alone, then I can make you things in the shape of my cock, growing larger and larger until you might take me as I am, enough to tear you in two if you are not careful. I would push you to the edge of your limits, stretch you around my cock until you are completely unable to do anything except moan for me, breathless and wanton.
[ But she continues to move and he can feel it, her hand between them, her fingers moving, her body tight around him - and he is completely and utterly destroyed by it. His hands move down to hold her by her ass, to grip there as she grinds down against him.
When she comes it feels like a revelation, as though he has once again ascended, and all he can do is lean over her, pull her against his chest and grind up against her. It is hardly going to take him long to join her - and it doesn't, not when she tells him that she loves him, offering him her heart, and he makes a soft, pained little noise as he thrusts up into her again, hands gripping tight.
As he comes, shaking and shivering from the strength of it, from want and love and desire and pure joy and pleasure, he hides his face against her to disguise the tears filling his eyes. ]
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So Pahja holds onto him as he comes, feels him shaking and breaking beneath her and keeps moving until he ceases. There is nothing but love in the way her fingers stroke through his hair, hold his face into the crook of her neck for as long as he needs -- she can feel the wetness there that has nothing to do with the sweat covering them both.
Such vulnerability strikes the heart of her, and she will not mock him for it nor call attention to it when he so desperately wishes to keep it from her. Catching her own breath, it's a few long, gentle, soft moments before she speaks, keeping him pressed to her, fingers still running through his hair. )
We can stay here as long as you'd like. I am not needed elsewhere.
( And she loves him -- where he is is where she wishes to be. )
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It is impossible not to break knowing that, knowing that he has found a place to belong, that when her arms wrap around her there is nothing that is going to tear them apart. They are two of the strongest beings that exist in this world, if not the strongest; no one could dare even try to slip between them.
Breathing out, he draws her closer against his body, rests against her with his eyes slipping closed, forcing himself to not break into pieces. Yes, she might have the strength to put him back together again, but ought he do that to her? It is unjust.
Unkind, even, to place such a burden on another.
Shaking his head, he tucks his face against her neck, breath coming out soft and slow. ]
I love you.
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It is the least she can do for him after killing him, after inflicting the pain of knowing the future, of losing that.
Pahja sighs, happy, satisfied, and rests her head against his. )
And I, you. In this life and any others. All others.
( It may be a silly promise, but Pahja considers the evidence stacked in her favor. One day their souls will be reborn -- and they will find each other again. She's certain of it.
The chill comes as the sweat cools on her skin, but Pahja ignores it in favor for the warmth of his skin, the warmth of his embrace, and the heat of his love. It is enough to keep her here with him, and as silly as it might be, a low contented purr starts up in her chest -- tail curling around them both. )
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It is not as if he is broken in half for her; it is simply that he is, in fact, repaired. She is the one who has done the mending.
His nose nudges against hers as he leans in to steal a kiss, his smile settling on his face. ]
Such a bold promise, my love. One I shall cling to.
[ Shifting, Emet-Selch lifts his hand and snaps his fingers; a blanket seems to drop around them and he shifts, tucking it against Pahja before he smiles, fingers brushing gently through her hair. He is made for tenderness with her, he thinks, and there is no forgetting that. ]
Do all of your kind purr, or are you once again a unique creature?
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Her lips twitch up into another smile, pressing a returning kiss to the corner of his mouth. Stealing kisses like a teenager -- she would never have thought it of the both of them. )
Only some. ( At least amongst her family and the others that kept to the same area of the Shroud. ) I am one of the lucky number who was gifted with an indicator of mood beyond ears and tail.
( Her purrs grow louder still, which she is fine with for once. Let Emet know how much she enjoys being here, with him. )
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Her nose nudges against his and he sighs softly, eyes closing and smiling fondly. ]
Another thing for me to keep an eye on in future, then.
[ This time he does laugh - because it is precious, adorable. Wonderful. ]
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Mm. You have all the time you like to catalogue the strange behaviors of the Warrior of Light. ( A pause, her hands coming up to cup his face, running her thumbs over his cheekbones. ) Thank you. For being willing to stay with me.
( He will have his rest. In time. )
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[ It's a simple enough thing. Yes, he could have returned to the end, could have allowed himself to move into the afterlife and be happy, but he would not have been content. He would have been too focussed, too sentient.
It would have been another kind of agonising. ]
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( She wouldn't begrudge him that. Besides, he often complains about the weariness in his soul -- Pahja, for one, would not begrudge him waiting until she had passed into the Lifestream to be reunited. He has earned his rest, she thinks.
They both have. )