( Pahja can't help it, she laughs. It's a breathy thing, soft and achingly fond. How Emet-Selch of him. She kisses him, deep and wanting with a soft tug of his lips between her teeth. If he's going to be difficult she'll at least give it her all. )
Oh Honorable Emet-Selch, please let me fuck you.
( Her hand picks up its speed, squeezing tighter as she roughly drags it down his cock. If it is by her hand that she will undo him then she will not give him anything less than her all.
How this will all play out, what it means for the future she does not yet know, but-- but she will have this, at least. She will have him for one bright moment.
It is the biggest, smallest gift anyone could have given her. )
[ As if he is going to do anything else, be anything else - Hades is whom he is, and the dangerous side of him demands that she submit, that he somehow keeps some measure of control in a world where he doesn't. It's not as if he has the wisdom nor experience on this front.
He cannot help laughing aloud all the same. ]
Since you asked so gently, so kindly.
[ He leans in and kisses her, hard and pressing, teeth scraping over hers before he leans back, letting his fingers grab at her clothing.
Emet-Selch, Hades, is nervous, but he refuses to allow it. ]
( The kiss makes her purr with how direct it is, how rough -- she wants to be kind to him, but there is a part of her that does want to see how far they can push each other in the pursuit of pleasure. Well, that will have to remain a topic for revisiting later with her hand.
For now she smiles, and curls a hand around one of his. )
What's this? The great Emet-Selch will simply lie there and let me ravish him? The first lesson anyone must learn during sex is that it is a give and take. So-- unrobe me as you please.
( He may be nervous underneath all that bluster, but Pahja intends on doing this right. A pause, however, as she leans forward to capture his lips in another kiss. )
And bring the items you conjured over here, won't you? I find myself unwilling to leave your lap for the time being.
You seemed content with your control of the situation. Aught I reckon with that, little hero?
[ It is still odd, this sudden lunge to intimacy, but she feels so familiar, so close to his own heart already that perhaps this was inevitable. His fingers begin to move up her body, to touch against her sides, to rest tentatively - and then with more confidence - on the shape of her waist as he leans up.
Hades, as he is, feels much larger than she already, but a flick of his wrist has her tools re-joining them in the comfort of his bedding, his lips curling into something of a smirk.
This is easier, at least; he can peel clothing from a body. ]
Since you asked so nicely.
[ He begins with what he can, starting to push away fabric, to let his fingers trace and explore and find the warmth of her skin, eyes widening just a little. ]
Oh, my dearest Emet-Selch. ( Pahja counters, laughing. It isn't unkind but unbearably, unspeakably fond. ) If I asked you to have me up against the wall until I couldn't walk, you wouldn't know where to begin. Ask me again in twelve thousand years and I promise you can have your way with me.
( He won't. Or maybe he will, to some alternate version of herself who will reap the rewards of Pahja and Emet's overwhelming sentementality. She can only hope that someone will. But the brush of his fingers as he bears skin has her gasping, shivering in the wake of his touch.
She shrugs off her layers where she can, shedding her top with relative ease once his fingers figure out the straps and ties. At that, Pahja gently takes one of his hands, encouraging him to touch her breasts, run his fingers over her hardening nipples. )
I would certainly know where to begin. I have beed well-educated, I can assure you of that, and I have yet to fail at anything I have put into practice. [ Which means, of course, he would put in a rather good attempt at doing whatever she asked of him - but perhaps she is right in that it might not be what she best wishes right now.
If what she says is correct, however, then perhaps he will remind her of this moment in several thousand years.
His fingers move to touch her breasts, to let a thumb flick over a nipple, and he tries to resist the wide-eyed awe he feels when he looks at her. His other hand comes to join it, stroking over the other one before it sinks lower, letting his other hand slip towards the gap between her legs, to let himself touch, to try and give her whatever she desires.
Emet-Selch wants to please her, more than anything. ]
( Her laughter is loud, ringing, but joyous -- she means him no ill-will, and seems rather taken aback by the fact she's laughing at all. An unexpected gift in these unexpected times. )
Oh, Emet. ( Soft, overly fond. ) I adore you, I do. I wish-- ( He slips his hand between her legs, touching her where she most wants him -- beyond spread open before her -- and her words devolve into a sigh of want, of bliss. The eagerness, the wonder with which he touches her has her practically melting in turn. ) Oh, nevermind.
( She wishes she could have had the time to love him. Pahja doesn't believe for a second he would let love stay his hand when it was what pushed him onward, would have made him think twice. But she would have loved him, could still if she allowed herself to. Now, however, it would just be carving a fresh wound.
So instead she presses her lips to his in a desperate kiss, moaning when she rolls her hips against his hand, enough to cause him to brush against her clit. )
[ His expression tightens, just for a moment, but he recognises that it is not meant in malice. It's a near enough tender thing, in the end, recognising that she is comfortable enough with him for this, even if it makes him feel a little sour. ]
Now is hardly the time for wishes, is it? [ It's clear that they could do or say a thousand things now, especially from the woman who is literally millennia ahead of him in time. He cannot dare to imagine the sort of things that she might want to ask of him.
He's certain he doesn't want to know.
Leaning close, he steals another kiss to stop her words, to try and stop her thoughts, adjusting the movement of his fingers to brush against her properly. He's versed in anatomy, enough to know how to bring pleasure even if he hasn't done it before, and with an adjustment of his fingers he can do his utmost to bring her as much pleasure as he can. ]
( He's right, of course, and his words push the thought from her mind as nearly as effectively as his fingers. There's a sort of academic quality to them that Pahja thinks is endearing -- she loses herself in the kiss, letting her thoughts vanish and vaporize for the moment.
The moan he pulls from her is lost into his mouth -- he is good at this, damn him -- and Pahja knows better than to let him have the upper hand. )
Oh, oh very well. You do know what you're doing. ( She'll give him that, some praise. ) Very good, Emet-Selch. Very good--
I did say that I knew, did I not? Shame on you for not choosing to heed it.
[ But he tilts his head, looking at her, drinking her in. How long until she leaves? How long until she fades away and he is stuck here in the past with the promise of a hell made by their own hands before them?
It seems only natural to want a sweet, quiet pleasure in its stead.
A hesitation, then, and a sigh. ]
I care not what you call me, so long as it is me you call for.
( Shame on her? Perhaps, perhaps. Still -- Pahja presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth before rolling her hips in encouragement. Get back to the point, Emet-Selch, if you're going to bask in being right. His hesitation is understandable, at least, and she sighs once more, running her fingers through his hair. )
There is no chance that another's name would slip past these lips.
( After all, she's had practice calling for him as her own hands brought her to completion, but that's a secret Pahja isn't quite willing to disclose to him.
Instead she returns to stroke his length, matching it to the speed of his fingers against her clit, in her. )
[ At least he has been able to prove himself in this way, been able to give some sign of his quick wit - how well he learns when given both the proper motivation and proper guidance. She has been kind to him thus far, but Emet-Selch has no desire to be underestimated, to be found wanting.
He leans into her touch, eyes flickering a little. ]
Good. I would be most displeased.
[ His fingers move, pressing against her, even as he breathes out, shivering a little as he breathes out her name, a desperate little thing before he leans up to steal another quick, sharp kiss. ]
( The fact he can't even say as much is endearing, and Pahja leans in once more to press a kiss to his lips. Not moving away, her breath is warm against his lips, his skin, and she pitches her voice lower, softer. ) Say please, Emet-Selch. And I will have you in moments.
( He's weak, she can tell, and she picks up the pace of her hand along his cock, gripping tighter -- she will fuck him how he wants, wants to see him lose himself and call her name louder. But he has to say please first. )
[ The way that she handles him, the way that she touches him, makes him feel shaken, a touch desperate and almost needy, but he manages himself just enough to breathe through it and force himself to tilt his head up and look at her.
There's not much that he can do any longer, not much else he can muster, and he huffs a little before he speaks. ]
( Pahja laughs, capturing his mouth in a kiss before she extracts herself from his arms and his grip. He did say please, and she is not a cruel woman.
As she busies herself with the strap she throws a searching look at him, biting the corner of her lip as she considers him. How he'd look best. )
And how do you want me to fuck you? Face down? Or on your back, with your legs across my shoulders so I can see your face? Or would you rather I fuck you against the wall?
Don't you have some form of preference? As you are quick to remind me, I am the unskilled here.
[ But at least the kisses are nice; he can't be too sour about that. His eyes drag over her body as she prepares herself, strapping herself in, and he wonders for a moment if perhaps he had been somewhat ambitious.
( It is rather girthy, she'll give him that. But he's the one who decided on the size even though she thinks -- for a moment -- she catches some worry in his eyes. Pahja can deal with that, and once it's securely on her she leans in once more to kiss him, long and hard.
But her hand reaches for his, threading his fingers with her's and gives it a gentle squeeze of affectionate reassurance. )
I'd like to see your face. And not just because I wish to see it flushed with desire and want.
[ He can manage his expectations and pain is not something he is altogether concerned about; he would be more worried if she found reason to protest. As it stands, Pahja seems quite content with the course they've taken and he is content to accept it.
Even if it is somewhat... Nervously.
Shifting a little, he gives her a sour look before he begins to roll into place. ]
Is it not already? You must not be trying nearly as hard as you think, then.
Must you always be so contrary, Emet? Now relax, please.
( Pahja rolls her own eyes at that, leaning down to kiss him before slicking her fingers in the oil he provided -- soft but not relenting, demanding only his attention and want as she deepens it. Better to distract him, to keep him relaxed as she runs her hand down his cock, stroking still before her free hand pushes one of his legs up, urging him to put it around her waist.
Her other hand, the one with the oil, slides over his entrance, around it, getting it as slick with oil as she can and urging him to relax the muscles there. There is no desire in her to have him hurt, or be uncomfortable.
[ But he allows her to do as she pleases, leaning back and letting himself be at her mercy, so to speak. They're both well aware that he could get himself out of this position any moment that he wanted, so it is the act of giving her control that is the most heady in the brief repose between breaths.
Leaning back, he allows his eyes to go lidded as her fingers press and explore - it's clearly not as painful as she might have expected for it to be for him, all things considered. ]
( She knows that well enough, and snorts a small huff of laughter into his skin. )
That I know well. But you take instruction well too, once you've done making a fuss about it.
( A small purr of delight as he does what she tells him regardless. That he is comfortable enough to relax, to find pleasure in it already is enough encouragement that she slips one finger in slowly -- not forcing past his limits, watching his face to see any trace of discomfort. )
I will make you feel good, Emet-Selch. This I swear.
[ He is not discomforted, not really; he shifts and allows himself to move a little against the pressure of her fingers, more curious than anything else, and it does feel strange - but not painful. Just new, and different, but he imagines that is because it is one of her fingers and not more.
The toy he had designed for her use will certainly feel much different. ]
I have no doubt about it. Are you always this talkative during?
( He's lucky she's not self-conscious or else his barbs might impede her performance, or at least her courage at fucking a man who barely knows her, and whom she killed. Instead she rolls her eyes and presses her finger in deeper, more pointedly, in an attempt to see him at least stutter. The strap-on though -- that will work, she's certain of it. )
Oh, did you not know? Talking is key to copulating. ( She says, doing her best to keep a straight face but utterly failing. It's not exactly untrue, but certainly not in the way she's prone to babbling on when in the throws of passion. ) One must always be certain to tell your partner or partners how good they are. I will lavish praise on you, Emet-Selch, as I fuck you into your bed. But you must tell me what you want so that I can better see to your needs.
( Which is why she slides another finger into him, pressing deep before working him open -- stretching him. )
[ If Emet-Selch were anyone else he might simply end the matter now with the slight press of her finger, the way she rolls her eyes - but he finds himself not particularly discomforted, finds himself instead watching her with dark, intense eyes, drinking her in and refusing to relent for even the barest of moments. He will not allow her to have more of an upper hand, so to speak. ]
I have never heard such a thing. [ Not that they speak of it often here, private matter as it is. ] Why do you ask when you already know? I want for you to fuck me, or I'd not have bothered the creation of your device.
[ He swallows back the groan, head tilting back and eyes closing. ]
( Something about the way he looks at her strikes a cord within her, drawing her in further -- he might have never done this before, and she might find herself enjoying that very fact, but the way he looks at her, the intensity threatens to leave her breathless. It is a blessing and a curse that he closes his eyes, for she watches his throat work, grinning.
Though she does laugh a little, a soft chuckle she decides to smother in the crook of his neck as she learns forward, pressing her lips against his skin in small, barely biting kisses. )
Because, oh eminent Emet-Selch, some people find it incredibly arousing when one is describing all manner of crude details. How do you want me to fuck you?
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Oh Honorable Emet-Selch, please let me fuck you.
( Her hand picks up its speed, squeezing tighter as she roughly drags it down his cock. If it is by her hand that she will undo him then she will not give him anything less than her all.
How this will all play out, what it means for the future she does not yet know, but-- but she will have this, at least. She will have him for one bright moment.
It is the biggest, smallest gift anyone could have given her. )
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He cannot help laughing aloud all the same. ]
Since you asked so gently, so kindly.
[ He leans in and kisses her, hard and pressing, teeth scraping over hers before he leans back, letting his fingers grab at her clothing.
Emet-Selch, Hades, is nervous, but he refuses to allow it. ]
Do as you will.
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For now she smiles, and curls a hand around one of his. )
What's this? The great Emet-Selch will simply lie there and let me ravish him? The first lesson anyone must learn during sex is that it is a give and take. So-- unrobe me as you please.
( He may be nervous underneath all that bluster, but Pahja intends on doing this right. A pause, however, as she leans forward to capture his lips in another kiss. )
And bring the items you conjured over here, won't you? I find myself unwilling to leave your lap for the time being.
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[ It is still odd, this sudden lunge to intimacy, but she feels so familiar, so close to his own heart already that perhaps this was inevitable. His fingers begin to move up her body, to touch against her sides, to rest tentatively - and then with more confidence - on the shape of her waist as he leans up.
Hades, as he is, feels much larger than she already, but a flick of his wrist has her tools re-joining them in the comfort of his bedding, his lips curling into something of a smirk.
This is easier, at least; he can peel clothing from a body. ]
Since you asked so nicely.
[ He begins with what he can, starting to push away fabric, to let his fingers trace and explore and find the warmth of her skin, eyes widening just a little. ]
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( He won't. Or maybe he will, to some alternate version of herself who will reap the rewards of Pahja and Emet's overwhelming sentementality. She can only hope that someone will. But the brush of his fingers as he bears skin has her gasping, shivering in the wake of his touch.
She shrugs off her layers where she can, shedding her top with relative ease once his fingers figure out the straps and ties. At that, Pahja gently takes one of his hands, encouraging him to touch her breasts, run his fingers over her hardening nipples. )
Ah, much better.
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If what she says is correct, however, then perhaps he will remind her of this moment in several thousand years.
His fingers move to touch her breasts, to let a thumb flick over a nipple, and he tries to resist the wide-eyed awe he feels when he looks at her. His other hand comes to join it, stroking over the other one before it sinks lower, letting his other hand slip towards the gap between her legs, to let himself touch, to try and give her whatever she desires.
Emet-Selch wants to please her, more than anything. ]
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Oh, Emet. ( Soft, overly fond. ) I adore you, I do. I wish-- ( He slips his hand between her legs, touching her where she most wants him -- beyond spread open before her -- and her words devolve into a sigh of want, of bliss. The eagerness, the wonder with which he touches her has her practically melting in turn. ) Oh, nevermind.
( She wishes she could have had the time to love him. Pahja doesn't believe for a second he would let love stay his hand when it was what pushed him onward, would have made him think twice. But she would have loved him, could still if she allowed herself to. Now, however, it would just be carving a fresh wound.
So instead she presses her lips to his in a desperate kiss, moaning when she rolls her hips against his hand, enough to cause him to brush against her clit. )
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Now is hardly the time for wishes, is it? [ It's clear that they could do or say a thousand things now, especially from the woman who is literally millennia ahead of him in time. He cannot dare to imagine the sort of things that she might want to ask of him.
He's certain he doesn't want to know.
Leaning close, he steals another kiss to stop her words, to try and stop her thoughts, adjusting the movement of his fingers to brush against her properly. He's versed in anatomy, enough to know how to bring pleasure even if he hasn't done it before, and with an adjustment of his fingers he can do his utmost to bring her as much pleasure as he can. ]
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The moan he pulls from her is lost into his mouth -- he is good at this, damn him -- and Pahja knows better than to let him have the upper hand. )
Oh, oh very well. You do know what you're doing. ( She'll give him that, some praise. ) Very good, Emet-Selch. Very good--
( But-- )
Would you prefer I call you Hades?
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[ But he tilts his head, looking at her, drinking her in. How long until she leaves? How long until she fades away and he is stuck here in the past with the promise of a hell made by their own hands before them?
It seems only natural to want a sweet, quiet pleasure in its stead.
A hesitation, then, and a sigh. ]
I care not what you call me, so long as it is me you call for.
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There is no chance that another's name would slip past these lips.
( After all, she's had practice calling for him as her own hands brought her to completion, but that's a secret Pahja isn't quite willing to disclose to him.
Instead she returns to stroke his length, matching it to the speed of his fingers against her clit, in her. )
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He leans into her touch, eyes flickering a little. ]
Good. I would be most displeased.
[ His fingers move, pressing against her, even as he breathes out, shivering a little as he breathes out her name, a desperate little thing before he leans up to steal another quick, sharp kiss. ]
When do you wish to...
[ His hips shift. ]
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( The fact he can't even say as much is endearing, and Pahja leans in once more to press a kiss to his lips. Not moving away, her breath is warm against his lips, his skin, and she pitches her voice lower, softer. ) Say please, Emet-Selch. And I will have you in moments.
( He's weak, she can tell, and she picks up the pace of her hand along his cock, gripping tighter -- she will fuck him how he wants, wants to see him lose himself and call her name louder. But he has to say please first. )
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[ The way that she handles him, the way that she touches him, makes him feel shaken, a touch desperate and almost needy, but he manages himself just enough to breathe through it and force himself to tilt his head up and look at her.
There's not much that he can do any longer, not much else he can muster, and he huffs a little before he speaks. ]
Please.
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As she busies herself with the strap she throws a searching look at him, biting the corner of her lip as she considers him. How he'd look best. )
And how do you want me to fuck you? Face down? Or on your back, with your legs across my shoulders so I can see your face? Or would you rather I fuck you against the wall?
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[ But at least the kisses are nice; he can't be too sour about that. His eyes drag over her body as she prepares herself, strapping herself in, and he wonders for a moment if perhaps he had been somewhat ambitious.
Leaning back, he shakes his head. ]
State your own choice.
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But her hand reaches for his, threading his fingers with her's and gives it a gentle squeeze of affectionate reassurance. )
I'd like to see your face. And not just because I wish to see it flushed with desire and want.
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Even if it is somewhat... Nervously.
Shifting a little, he gives her a sour look before he begins to roll into place. ]
Is it not already? You must not be trying nearly as hard as you think, then.
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( Pahja rolls her own eyes at that, leaning down to kiss him before slicking her fingers in the oil he provided -- soft but not relenting, demanding only his attention and want as she deepens it. Better to distract him, to keep him relaxed as she runs her hand down his cock, stroking still before her free hand pushes one of his legs up, urging him to put it around her waist.
Her other hand, the one with the oil, slides over his entrance, around it, getting it as slick with oil as she can and urging him to relax the muscles there. There is no desire in her to have him hurt, or be uncomfortable.
That isn't what this is about. )
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[ But he allows her to do as she pleases, leaning back and letting himself be at her mercy, so to speak. They're both well aware that he could get himself out of this position any moment that he wanted, so it is the act of giving her control that is the most heady in the brief repose between breaths.
Leaning back, he allows his eyes to go lidded as her fingers press and explore - it's clearly not as painful as she might have expected for it to be for him, all things considered. ]
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That I know well. But you take instruction well too, once you've done making a fuss about it.
( A small purr of delight as he does what she tells him regardless. That he is comfortable enough to relax, to find pleasure in it already is enough encouragement that she slips one finger in slowly -- not forcing past his limits, watching his face to see any trace of discomfort. )
I will make you feel good, Emet-Selch. This I swear.
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The toy he had designed for her use will certainly feel much different. ]
I have no doubt about it. Are you always this talkative during?
[ It's not a complaint, just a question. ]
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Oh, did you not know? Talking is key to copulating. ( She says, doing her best to keep a straight face but utterly failing. It's not exactly untrue, but certainly not in the way she's prone to babbling on when in the throws of passion. ) One must always be certain to tell your partner or partners how good they are. I will lavish praise on you, Emet-Selch, as I fuck you into your bed. But you must tell me what you want so that I can better see to your needs.
( Which is why she slides another finger into him, pressing deep before working him open -- stretching him. )
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I have never heard such a thing. [ Not that they speak of it often here, private matter as it is. ] Why do you ask when you already know? I want for you to fuck me, or I'd not have bothered the creation of your device.
[ He swallows back the groan, head tilting back and eyes closing. ]
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Though she does laugh a little, a soft chuckle she decides to smother in the crook of his neck as she learns forward, pressing her lips against his skin in small, barely biting kisses. )
Because, oh eminent Emet-Selch, some people find it incredibly arousing when one is describing all manner of crude details. How do you want me to fuck you?
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tsundere baby time
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