[ 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?
[ It's not as simple a process as Emet would have imagined it to be, but he also mislikes bowing to her wisdom entirely. He intends to be an active participant in their coupling, as it were, despite his inexperience and her far exceeding knowledge: he will not be completely undone.
Not yet, at least, and the scowl that seems to settle all too familiarly on his face is likely enough proof of that. ]
I don't know. [ His reply is tight, his eyes flicking away from her face. ] I did not know there was more than the fucking to be had.
( That's adorable, and Pahja laughs -- not meanly, just completely charmed by his refusal to simply bow to her expertise. She doesn't mean to be cruel, and slides another finger into him in order to show that she isn't going to taunt and torment him forever. )
Hm. How about this? I'll say what I want to do to you, and then you can tell me if you like the idea, or like the sound of my voice? ( Another kiss to the corner of his lips, trailing down to his ear so that she can whisper, low and near-breathless, into his ear. ) Because I want to fuck you, Emet-Selch. I want to press you into the bed and fuck you so hard that you will never forget me, even after I'm gone. I want to see you spread open for my cock, I want to hear you cry my name. You'll let me, won't you? My dear, dear Emet-Selch--
( Her fingers don't stop moving, increasing in pace -- thrusting, spreading him open, encouraging him -- as she talks. )
[ He only has certain amount of reason to trust her, and thus far he has felt prickly from her own confidence where he lacks. His eyes narrow before a finger presses and he shivers instead, breathing out a soft little noise. ]
You are a monster - [ Which is enough, and he shakes as he leans back, allowing her fingers to press and tease, allowing her to drag him open and bring him new pleasures. It makes his breathing pause in a sharp little gasp, his head tilted back as he finally relaxes and allows her to take her control.
( Ah, there it is. Pahja rewards his concession with removing her fingers -- only for a brief moment -- attempting to swallow his protests with her mouth before she places the head of the dildo against him. )
You are far too kind. ( He is, at his heart. He cares so much, all the time, and it will ruin him. No matter how much he tries to push aside the depths of his love and affection for his world, his people, he will fail and it will destroy him.
He knows as much, but denies it. She will let him have that, now, and does not think to speak of it. Not know, when he is finally willing beneath her. Pahja grins, eyes flashing, and she rolls her hips forward, slowly thrusting into him -- not so deep right away, but she wants him to feel every stretch. ) Only one of us here can change shape at will, but if you wish to bare that to me, it will change nothing.
[ When the fingers are gone he makes a soft, sad little noise, almost mourning the loss of it - but then there is a gentle pressure of something new, more, a little larger, and his eyes flicker for the briefest of moments.
Kind, she says, and he snorts a little noise. ] Kind, you say, as if you are not preparing to ruin me entirely. I think you are simply offering idle flattery. [ The thrust forward is enough to make him groan, a low, deep little noise, and he shivers as he leans back into the bed below him.
It is intense, but it is also wonderful; he wants more of it, wants to be drowned in the feeling, but he is trying to speak. Trying to find gasping words as he lifts his head to look at her. ] Change shape? Do you think that is what is on my mind?
( Perhaps she is, and she presses a kiss to the curve of his jaw, soft and far, far too tender. This should mean nothing -- an experience at best -- yet Pahja cannot help but cherish it. The vulnerability of the man below her; the way he groans as she thrusts in, pushing deeper. )
I have never known what is on your mind, Emet-Selch. ( Grief and eons-long anger, a mourning that never leaves the curve of his shoulders. But she has not known it, not like he. ) Why don't you tell me what is, so that I might better fuck you?
( That is punctuated with a sharp roll of her hips, though she keeps talking. )
You are handsome, and I will see that face of yours ruined 'ere morning. Does that sound good, oh Emet-Selch?
[ Emet-Selch does not, at least, notice the tenderness overmuch; he is too wrapped up in the sheer feeling of her moving forward and taking her in. He can barely wrap his mind around the notion of this being more than it is, because the weight of want and desire is still pressing down on him.
Lifting his head, he looks at her with hazy eyes. ]
I- I have yet to fathom what I could possibly ask for.
[ His voice is a touch of hoarseness, his head leaning back. ]
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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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Not yet, at least, and the scowl that seems to settle all too familiarly on his face is likely enough proof of that. ]
I don't know. [ His reply is tight, his eyes flicking away from her face. ] I did not know there was more than the fucking to be had.
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Hm. How about this? I'll say what I want to do to you, and then you can tell me if you like the idea, or like the sound of my voice? ( Another kiss to the corner of his lips, trailing down to his ear so that she can whisper, low and near-breathless, into his ear. ) Because I want to fuck you, Emet-Selch. I want to press you into the bed and fuck you so hard that you will never forget me, even after I'm gone. I want to see you spread open for my cock, I want to hear you cry my name. You'll let me, won't you? My dear, dear Emet-Selch--
( Her fingers don't stop moving, increasing in pace -- thrusting, spreading him open, encouraging him -- as she talks. )
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You are a monster - [ Which is enough, and he shakes as he leans back, allowing her fingers to press and tease, allowing her to drag him open and bring him new pleasures. It makes his breathing pause in a sharp little gasp, his head tilted back as he finally relaxes and allows her to take her control.
He is too weak to resist. ] Anything.
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You are far too kind. ( He is, at his heart. He cares so much, all the time, and it will ruin him. No matter how much he tries to push aside the depths of his love and affection for his world, his people, he will fail and it will destroy him.
He knows as much, but denies it. She will let him have that, now, and does not think to speak of it. Not know, when he is finally willing beneath her. Pahja grins, eyes flashing, and she rolls her hips forward, slowly thrusting into him -- not so deep right away, but she wants him to feel every stretch. ) Only one of us here can change shape at will, but if you wish to bare that to me, it will change nothing.
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Kind, she says, and he snorts a little noise. ] Kind, you say, as if you are not preparing to ruin me entirely. I think you are simply offering idle flattery. [ The thrust forward is enough to make him groan, a low, deep little noise, and he shivers as he leans back into the bed below him.
It is intense, but it is also wonderful; he wants more of it, wants to be drowned in the feeling, but he is trying to speak. Trying to find gasping words as he lifts his head to look at her. ] Change shape? Do you think that is what is on my mind?
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I have never known what is on your mind, Emet-Selch. ( Grief and eons-long anger, a mourning that never leaves the curve of his shoulders. But she has not known it, not like he. ) Why don't you tell me what is, so that I might better fuck you?
( That is punctuated with a sharp roll of her hips, though she keeps talking. )
You are handsome, and I will see that face of yours ruined 'ere morning. Does that sound good, oh Emet-Selch?
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Lifting his head, he looks at her with hazy eyes. ]
I- I have yet to fathom what I could possibly ask for.
[ His voice is a touch of hoarseness, his head leaning back. ]
Simply continue. Please.
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tsundere baby time
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