[ 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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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. )