[ 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. ]
( Thankful that whatever lapses in judgement she might display are hidden from him -- their meaning, or the fact that he cannot see what they are -- Pahja continues. It is what he asks for, after all, and she would be cruel indeed to deny him it. )
Very well.
( The smile she gives him is weighty with her own sadness, but she shoves that aside and buries her face into his neck, nipping at the skin there just hard enough to leave a mark. She presses deeper still, slowly, achingly slow, so that he can better adjust until he has taken her into the base of the strap. A hand comes to cord through his hair, keeping him there. )
There, how good you are to take it all. ( She smiles against his skin, pressing a kiss against the marks she's made. Pahja lets him have a moment, waits, before she pulls nearly all the way out in one smooth motion. ) My dear, dear Emet-Selch.
( Pahja thrusts forward again, strong but not harshly, easily sheathing the dildo into him. And again -- long, strong thrusts as she moves to hook one of his legs over her shoulder. She's short enough it should work, Pahja thinks, hopes that it does. For she wants to see his face. )
[ None of this venture was expected for him, and all that Emet-Selch might do is accept her lead and follow as he can - which admits itself to why he is still so surely, still so glaring even when her tenderness is there and sure. Her touch is careful, gentle, and he finds himself undeserving of it.
He feels her pushing in, feels himself getting so desperately full, and for a moment he is entirely without voice. It is an intensity he had not dared to imagine, and even if he had he does not think he would have been able to find the proper inspiration. This is so uniquely different to any experience he has had before, and the breath leaves him as he tilts his head back to try and simply enjoy the pleasure.
There's is no demand, no order for her to move, and Emet-Selch simply basks in the way that her lips feel against his skin - before suddenly she is moving, the grind of her gifted cock pressing into him, scraping against him intimately, and all he can do is moan.
He does not protest as she moves his leg, as she changes the angle just so, and his hands grip the sheets as he squeezes his eyes shut, completely lost in his own pleasure. ]
( There is something so inherently captivating about seeing Emet-Selch give himself over to the feeling, of pleasure, and that she could give him this one thing, a unique experience amongst his wealth of knowledge. Will he remember it? She wonders, but does not concern herself with the thought overmuch, instead keeping her thrusts steady, even. )
That's it. ( Pahja says, practically cooing at him, against his skin, relishing every moan she can pull from him. He doesn't have to look at her now, now that she can tell from the way he looks, the sounds he make, that he is enjoying this. ) Don't think, just feel and let yourself go. I promise-- I promise to take care of you.
( It is an ache, a burning sorrow in her breast, that she couldn't give him this in her time. Couldn't convince him to set his burdens down before she took his life. Would they have fucked if she could have? Pahja thinks so, she would have wanted to, would have allowed herself to be pulled fully in by his sly charm. It is unfair--
She shudders, overcome by the thought before she can restrain herself, and rolls her hips up into him to hear him moan like that again, to say her name to chase away the ghosts in her head. He is not the only one who needs to let go, Pahja thinks wryly. )
Moan for me again, Emet-Selch. I want to hear you--
( Her hand slides between them as she thrusts, steady and sure and deep as if she can force out what remaining thoughts he has left. Wrapping a hand around his cock, her touch is gentle, soft. Not demanding -- and for a moment Pahja is lost in the feel of it, heavy in her hands and larger than she would have thought. She is caught by wants -- the desire to have it in her, the desire to take it in her mouth and see if it will fit -- but neither of those are things she can have, and so she settles on what she can: watching him come undone.
Which is why she starts to stroke him, matched with the slow pace of her thrusts. )
[ The skill that she displays is truly almost too much for him, as unaccustomed as he is; he was not prepared for how overwhelming it might feel, the way that he is completely at her mercy. It has been a long time since he allowed anyone such power over him, but he finds the bubbling voice in his throat is so close to begging her to give him it all, to demand that she never stop until their pleasure is all that hangs between them.
It hurts, a little, his ego that she does not stop talking. Her promises make him feel a little embarrassed, on edge, as though anyone might be able to overhear them, might be able to read him like an open book. He does not think anyone will recognise what he has done with this little creature any day from now, but the thought of it makes his skin prickle. ]
You speak too much. [ His voice is strained, hoarse, even as she continues to thrust into him, continues to make demands of him: to moan, to express himself, to fall apart. His hands twitch a little as he resists the urge to give in to her entirely. She might demand it, but he remains yet his own man. ]
Give me good reason -
[ And then her hand is around his cock, and suddenly the idea of fighting back against her seems nigh impossible. He groans, low and deep in his throat, feeling the shudder run through him, head tilting back.
It seems as though she truly has control over him, and he must accept that for what it is. ]
( Must he be so difficult? Pahja supposes it was always in his nature to be such a contrary, stubborn thing. It would be aggravating if it wasn't endearing in this moment, the way he tries to hold himself back. Well, since when has Emet-Selch ever done what was in his best interest where she was involved? She can't name a single time, and the thought makes her huff in laughter, pressed against the skin of his neck so he doesn't mistake her amusement as mocking him.
For she couldn't. Not right now, when he has been most accommodating for her own wants and desires. He who has indulged her in ways he isn't aware of, ways he will never know until the weight of the universe has bent him. )
And here I thought you were growing to enjoy the sound of my voice. ( She quips, with a pointed roll of her hips and a drag of her hand down his cock. ) But if it's silence you want, Emet-Selch, then--
( She will give him silence.
Pahja continues to mouth at the smooth column of his neck, just shy of marking the skin -- she can only imagine the fuss he'd make if she did so, unable to hide them with how his robe falls open -- her breath hot as she bites her tongue. It's harder than she thought it would be, to keep from trying to encourage him. But this way he's ensured that the only sounds he'll hear are his own, every gasp and moan he might make against the sounds of their coupling.
Her grip on his leg tightens, and she bites her lip -- turning her concentration fully on the matter at hand. Every thrust she aims to have him move with the force of it. Every stroke of her hand up and down his cock with the intent of drawing more gasps and sighs from him.
Withholding anything that could make his pleasure greater seems pointless when she wants him to break so beautifully as she suspects he can. And he will, she'll see to it. She moves slightly to adjust their angle, forcing Emet's hips up more to drive her deeper into him with as much force as she can put behind every thrust, pushing him further and further into pleasure -- she wants him to lose himself in it.
Let him free himself from the worries that crease his brow, at least for a time. )
[ There is no denying that he would not be himself if he were more willing to give in to her; there is a part of him that must always fight back, be a touch on the side of biting, to demand all that he is able to do of his self-control. He will not give in and give her the satisfaction until he is truly torn apart by her tender, clever hands.
Perhaps, if he knew her better, he would be more consolidatory, but he does not, and thus he will be a pain until the end. ]
You are - irritating - [ Said, sharply, between breaths, his eyes closing as he allows her to make good use of his body. It feels good, feels full somewhere deep inside of him, and he longs to push her hand away from his cock and take over himself. To have her be in so much control over his own body and pleasure makes him uneasy, if only because he feels so bared to her.
The thrusts are almost too much, and he feels a strange, thick feeling in his throat, like he might cry. ]
Do you intend to ruin me? [ It comes out breathless, desperate, and the shifting of his hips might well give away just how much he wants to give in, just how close he is. ]
( Ah, so now he wants her to talk. Pahja laughs, a huff of warmth against his skin. She'll indulge him because for all his moody, bad tempered grouching, he is still letting her indulge in this -- even if it makes him slightly uncomfortable. She can reward him, can't she? )
Never. ( She says, though it's far more of a whisper. ) I don't wish to cause you more harm than I have, not ever again.
( The way he moves helps to encourage her, and her thrusts continue, deep and as powerful as she can -- matching the strokes of her hand to push him over the edge, to let him break in the most exquisite of ways. A gift, she wants it to be a gift and not something painful, not something he will regret even if he remembers it in the far, far future. )
Come for me, Hades. Please, you can let go--
( And she will keep him safe for that moment, she swears. )
[ The laugh makes him a little sour, but it's not as though he can deny her the gentle humour of it - she is permitted to be a little grouchy, considering he has been quite sour with her in return. Let her tease him and test him; in the end, they are both receiving more than enough pleasure from this shared evening.
More harm than I have. He ought to ask her what it is, exactly, that she is to do to him in the future, what ills await him, but pleasure is growing and warming him from the inside out - there is no denying just how desperate he is to completely lose himself to his pleasure.
Tilting his head back, he swallows the lump in his throat, the way that he feels almost overwhelmed by it, and before he can do anything more he is arching his back and coming, almost at her command.
It is almost too much, especially when she continues to move, his hips jerking just a little as he breathes out, breathless and sharp. ]
( Watching him fall apart is just as good as she thought it might be, and Pahja takes a moment to etch the image in her mind, the way his spine curves up, the soft sound that he makes as he breathes. It's perfect, Pahja thinks, and she could never ask for anything more.
She thrusts into him until he comes back to himself, slowing her thrusts and the drag of her hand until he is spent. Pahja doesn't pull out right away, instead leaning over him to kiss him -- soft, achingly so -- and brush his sweat-damp hair away from his face. He'll most likely have something sharp to say about that as well, so she rolls her hips once more as if to counter any pointed words, before sliding out and letting her hand fall from his cock. )
There. That wasn't so bad, was it?
( He really will throw her out now, she thinks, but she will manage. )
[ It feels like too much and he's sure that she is aware of it, the over sensitive drag of the cock he made her aching through his body and leaving him feeling as though he might well be falling apart. There's a sharp desperation about it, the way that despite having come he longs for more, and he has to shove it aside and leave himself the determination to not want more.
She slips back and moves away, almost as if entirely separating herself from him, and it makes him shift, his body reaching out to draw her close and tuck her against his body. Idly, he thinks he ought to have cleaned the two of them up before he leaned in like this, but it is too late for it now.
Instead, he leans in and kisses her before he tugs on her arms, pulling at her. ]
( He is handsome -- beautiful, even. Whether that's simply the result of grief and affection mingling with her own desire doesn't matter, she is simply content to be held close, to kiss him back as deeply as he deserves. Stubborn, stupid man that he is. )
What--
( She's taken aback, but her surprise only lasts for a moment before she allows him to guide her up. Pahja hadn't expected anything in return -- content to give him his pleasure and then be responsible for her own -- not because she thinks he would be an inattentive lover, but she hadn't wanted to presume, to ask him for anything he did not want to give or feel comfortable in giving.
Not that she is about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Or... well, have him have his mouth on her, as the case might be. Settling over him, she looks down -- a hand coming to rest in his hair. )
Are you certain?
( A stupid question, maybe, but one she feels like she must ask. )
[ What a foolish question. Emet-Selch shakes his head and shifts his position to grant himself a little more comfort as his arm wraps around her to hold her in place. It's easy to move his fingers and have the toy he made for her fall away - they can concern themselves with that particular clean up later - so that she is bared and ready for him instead.
As much as he enjoyed being taken, he wants to ensure that she is brought all the best of pleasures. He would not consider himself an expert in this, but he is adept enough that he can surely figure out what will fulfil her desires most assuredly.
His lips press gentle kisses to her thighs, eyes closing for a moment as he lets himself bask. ]
( The difference in their heights, their size, suddenly seems more pronounced now than it did moments before -- how easily he keeps her there; it sends a thrill through her that she'll ruminate over later. Once this has faded into her memory. )
Well, no-- ( And anything else she might say is dispelled as quickly as it comes with his lips on her thighs, warm and soft. They shake from the want that now floods through her; carefully banked so that she could see him break for her. And now that he has, well. ) Let's see how sharp your tongue can be.
( She does not want to overwhelm him at once, but cannot help but take him at his word, settling over him before lowing herself down -- thighs tight so she does not smother him completely. Unless he wants that, of course. His nose, somewhere in the process of finding something that works for both of them, presses up against her clit and the friction is enough to tear a small, shocked gasp from her. )
Oh--. ( It has been, she realizes, so long. Since Haurchefant, was it? And that was years ago. ) I'd forgotten--
( What it was like to want another, to be desired and pleasured in turn. )
[ It is not as though he has much in terms of proficiency with this, but it cannot be too difficult.
The movement of tongue and fingers, a not so idle dance; certainly he will have room to improve in future, but he will put himself to good use now. It would not do for his partner to leave unfulfilled, especially when she has offered him great pleasure, and he is doing all that he is able to ensure that she finds the evening as enjoyable as he has, in all senses of the term.
His fingers move along to grip the back of her thighs, up to her backside, and he lets himself touch the soft skin, enjoy the weight of her against his body. It is more pleasant than he had imagined, and he feels his lips twitch just a little.
The way she gasps is enough of an indication of where he ought to start, so he does so: his tongue drags along her as he holds on, finding her clit and beginning to press against it, to test the waters of her sensitivity and seek the best destination going forward. ]
( Pahja has never been concerned with the skill of her lovers, preferring more that they were enthusiastic -- she could tell him that, but knows better than to further prodding may end poorly for both of them. So instead she simply allows herself to feel and not think. She has done far too much of that lately, and --- perhaps she should just enjoy the moment.
His touch is firm, warm, stronger than she expected it to be. Allowing herself to relax is difficult, but he make it easier -- Pahja gives herself over to him, to the feeling. His tongue is right where she wants it for now; the harder he presses against her clit the louder she gets, gasping gentle encouragement before moaning. )
Quick learner. ( She says by way of praise, biting her lip to hold her hips still and not overwhelm him. ) I don't know how long--
( She'll last, given how wonderful it was fucking him, how tight her own body is, how long it's been since someone last touched her. )
[ His ego might not be able to well take any criticism of his abilities, not when he has been so thoroughly ruined by her own: Pahja has certainly unlocked desire within him and left Emet-Selch feeling as though he has been scooped from the inside out. It is difficult to focus, but he has no intention of pausing.
There is no reason for Emet-Selch to be unkind to her - or, perhaps, in this case, no reason need be overly kind when it is so clear what she wants. He will give it to her without hesitation, and it will please them both: she was satisfied with his own pleasure and he will be well satisfied by hers.
The praise makes him feel good, and he shifts his weight to hold her with a touch more gentleness, letting her shift and move against him, to use him how she wants. He cannot really reply when she is occupying his tongue so well, but he hums against her in appreciation.
( The vibration of the hum itself pulls another gasp, another moan from her -- his touch changes, and it is enough to make her want to cry. How can he be so gentle with her when she will ruin him, his plans, destroy him? It's unfair.
Pahja blinks away her tears, swallowing the weight in her throat and letting herself moan louder, shifting her hips against his face with a desperate eagerness. Every press of his tongue against her clit has her shaking, one of her hands coming down to card through his hair, encouraging. )
Like that, Emet-Selch. If you want to use fingers, or your tongue-- you can, you can-- ( She is gentle with her direction, never wanting to shame him or make him feel as if she's chiding him. ) It's good, you're good, you really are--
[ A part of him thinks he ought to feel a little more sour about the fact that she is praising him so highly - he knows he is likely not as skilled as her previous lovers, does not have the practice that they might.
The fact that she remains so vocal does make him feel better about himself, though, and he presses up further, letting his tongue flick, and his fingers move to join him.
One finger slips inside her, his tongue pressing forward to go alongside it. ]
( Skill hardly matters, for Pahja is more keen on a partner's enthusiasm than any skill they may or may not have. Having sex is supposed to be fun, she always would say, and it's silly and messy -- nothing can be perfect when that's the case.
She'd say so, really, she would! But hopefully a sharp cry of want is reward enough as his finger presses in, as his tongue presses against her -- it's enough to wring out more sounds as he continues to move, her hand going to cord through his hair to keep him there. )
Emet-- ( What can she say? ) Please, more -- I won't break, I promise, and I need-- ( A breath, shaky. ) I need you.
[ The very fact that she is so clearly enjoying herself spins Emet-Selch into a new kind of heat, a warmth that he had not dared suggest or thought of before now: there is something to be said for the sheer joy of bringing pleasure to a partner, and he did not think it would be so... Heavy.
The sounds she is making are delicious, makes him feel a stirring inside himself, and he has to focus a little more to make sure he does not lose himself to the feeling.
His fingers move more, pressing into her, a second and then, eventually, a third, to give her all that she might desire and draw her pleasure from her, to have her break for him. ]
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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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Very well.
( The smile she gives him is weighty with her own sadness, but she shoves that aside and buries her face into his neck, nipping at the skin there just hard enough to leave a mark. She presses deeper still, slowly, achingly slow, so that he can better adjust until he has taken her into the base of the strap. A hand comes to cord through his hair, keeping him there. )
There, how good you are to take it all. ( She smiles against his skin, pressing a kiss against the marks she's made. Pahja lets him have a moment, waits, before she pulls nearly all the way out in one smooth motion. ) My dear, dear Emet-Selch.
( Pahja thrusts forward again, strong but not harshly, easily sheathing the dildo into him. And again -- long, strong thrusts as she moves to hook one of his legs over her shoulder. She's short enough it should work, Pahja thinks, hopes that it does. For she wants to see his face. )
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He feels her pushing in, feels himself getting so desperately full, and for a moment he is entirely without voice. It is an intensity he had not dared to imagine, and even if he had he does not think he would have been able to find the proper inspiration. This is so uniquely different to any experience he has had before, and the breath leaves him as he tilts his head back to try and simply enjoy the pleasure.
There's is no demand, no order for her to move, and Emet-Selch simply basks in the way that her lips feel against his skin - before suddenly she is moving, the grind of her gifted cock pressing into him, scraping against him intimately, and all he can do is moan.
He does not protest as she moves his leg, as she changes the angle just so, and his hands grip the sheets as he squeezes his eyes shut, completely lost in his own pleasure. ]
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That's it. ( Pahja says, practically cooing at him, against his skin, relishing every moan she can pull from him. He doesn't have to look at her now, now that she can tell from the way he looks, the sounds he make, that he is enjoying this. ) Don't think, just feel and let yourself go. I promise-- I promise to take care of you.
( It is an ache, a burning sorrow in her breast, that she couldn't give him this in her time. Couldn't convince him to set his burdens down before she took his life. Would they have fucked if she could have? Pahja thinks so, she would have wanted to, would have allowed herself to be pulled fully in by his sly charm. It is unfair--
She shudders, overcome by the thought before she can restrain herself, and rolls her hips up into him to hear him moan like that again, to say her name to chase away the ghosts in her head. He is not the only one who needs to let go, Pahja thinks wryly. )
Moan for me again, Emet-Selch. I want to hear you--
( Her hand slides between them as she thrusts, steady and sure and deep as if she can force out what remaining thoughts he has left. Wrapping a hand around his cock, her touch is gentle, soft. Not demanding -- and for a moment Pahja is lost in the feel of it, heavy in her hands and larger than she would have thought. She is caught by wants -- the desire to have it in her, the desire to take it in her mouth and see if it will fit -- but neither of those are things she can have, and so she settles on what she can: watching him come undone.
Which is why she starts to stroke him, matched with the slow pace of her thrusts. )
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It hurts, a little, his ego that she does not stop talking. Her promises make him feel a little embarrassed, on edge, as though anyone might be able to overhear them, might be able to read him like an open book. He does not think anyone will recognise what he has done with this little creature any day from now, but the thought of it makes his skin prickle. ]
You speak too much. [ His voice is strained, hoarse, even as she continues to thrust into him, continues to make demands of him: to moan, to express himself, to fall apart. His hands twitch a little as he resists the urge to give in to her entirely. She might demand it, but he remains yet his own man. ]
Give me good reason -
[ And then her hand is around his cock, and suddenly the idea of fighting back against her seems nigh impossible. He groans, low and deep in his throat, feeling the shudder run through him, head tilting back.
It seems as though she truly has control over him, and he must accept that for what it is. ]
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For she couldn't. Not right now, when he has been most accommodating for her own wants and desires. He who has indulged her in ways he isn't aware of, ways he will never know until the weight of the universe has bent him. )
And here I thought you were growing to enjoy the sound of my voice. ( She quips, with a pointed roll of her hips and a drag of her hand down his cock. ) But if it's silence you want, Emet-Selch, then--
( She will give him silence.
Pahja continues to mouth at the smooth column of his neck, just shy of marking the skin -- she can only imagine the fuss he'd make if she did so, unable to hide them with how his robe falls open -- her breath hot as she bites her tongue. It's harder than she thought it would be, to keep from trying to encourage him. But this way he's ensured that the only sounds he'll hear are his own, every gasp and moan he might make against the sounds of their coupling.
Her grip on his leg tightens, and she bites her lip -- turning her concentration fully on the matter at hand. Every thrust she aims to have him move with the force of it. Every stroke of her hand up and down his cock with the intent of drawing more gasps and sighs from him.
Withholding anything that could make his pleasure greater seems pointless when she wants him to break so beautifully as she suspects he can. And he will, she'll see to it. She moves slightly to adjust their angle, forcing Emet's hips up more to drive her deeper into him with as much force as she can put behind every thrust, pushing him further and further into pleasure -- she wants him to lose himself in it.
Let him free himself from the worries that crease his brow, at least for a time. )
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Perhaps, if he knew her better, he would be more consolidatory, but he does not, and thus he will be a pain until the end. ]
You are - irritating - [ Said, sharply, between breaths, his eyes closing as he allows her to make good use of his body. It feels good, feels full somewhere deep inside of him, and he longs to push her hand away from his cock and take over himself. To have her be in so much control over his own body and pleasure makes him uneasy, if only because he feels so bared to her.
The thrusts are almost too much, and he feels a strange, thick feeling in his throat, like he might cry. ]
Do you intend to ruin me? [ It comes out breathless, desperate, and the shifting of his hips might well give away just how much he wants to give in, just how close he is. ]
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Never. ( She says, though it's far more of a whisper. ) I don't wish to cause you more harm than I have, not ever again.
( The way he moves helps to encourage her, and her thrusts continue, deep and as powerful as she can -- matching the strokes of her hand to push him over the edge, to let him break in the most exquisite of ways. A gift, she wants it to be a gift and not something painful, not something he will regret even if he remembers it in the far, far future. )
Come for me, Hades. Please, you can let go--
( And she will keep him safe for that moment, she swears. )
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More harm than I have. He ought to ask her what it is, exactly, that she is to do to him in the future, what ills await him, but pleasure is growing and warming him from the inside out - there is no denying just how desperate he is to completely lose himself to his pleasure.
Tilting his head back, he swallows the lump in his throat, the way that he feels almost overwhelmed by it, and before he can do anything more he is arching his back and coming, almost at her command.
It is almost too much, especially when she continues to move, his hips jerking just a little as he breathes out, breathless and sharp. ]
Oh...
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She thrusts into him until he comes back to himself, slowing her thrusts and the drag of her hand until he is spent. Pahja doesn't pull out right away, instead leaning over him to kiss him -- soft, achingly so -- and brush his sweat-damp hair away from his face. He'll most likely have something sharp to say about that as well, so she rolls her hips once more as if to counter any pointed words, before sliding out and letting her hand fall from his cock. )
There. That wasn't so bad, was it?
( He really will throw her out now, she thinks, but she will manage. )
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She slips back and moves away, almost as if entirely separating herself from him, and it makes him shift, his body reaching out to draw her close and tuck her against his body. Idly, he thinks he ought to have cleaned the two of them up before he leaned in like this, but it is too late for it now.
Instead, he leans in and kisses her before he tugs on her arms, pulling at her. ]
Up.
[ Sit on his face, Pahja. ]
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What--
( She's taken aback, but her surprise only lasts for a moment before she allows him to guide her up. Pahja hadn't expected anything in return -- content to give him his pleasure and then be responsible for her own -- not because she thinks he would be an inattentive lover, but she hadn't wanted to presume, to ask him for anything he did not want to give or feel comfortable in giving.
Not that she is about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Or... well, have him have his mouth on her, as the case might be. Settling over him, she looks down -- a hand coming to rest in his hair. )
Are you certain?
( A stupid question, maybe, but one she feels like she must ask. )
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[ What a foolish question. Emet-Selch shakes his head and shifts his position to grant himself a little more comfort as his arm wraps around her to hold her in place. It's easy to move his fingers and have the toy he made for her fall away - they can concern themselves with that particular clean up later - so that she is bared and ready for him instead.
As much as he enjoyed being taken, he wants to ensure that she is brought all the best of pleasures. He would not consider himself an expert in this, but he is adept enough that he can surely figure out what will fulfil her desires most assuredly.
His lips press gentle kisses to her thighs, eyes closing for a moment as he lets himself bask. ]
Make good use of me, Pahja.
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Well, no-- ( And anything else she might say is dispelled as quickly as it comes with his lips on her thighs, warm and soft. They shake from the want that now floods through her; carefully banked so that she could see him break for her. And now that he has, well. ) Let's see how sharp your tongue can be.
( She does not want to overwhelm him at once, but cannot help but take him at his word, settling over him before lowing herself down -- thighs tight so she does not smother him completely. Unless he wants that, of course. His nose, somewhere in the process of finding something that works for both of them, presses up against her clit and the friction is enough to tear a small, shocked gasp from her. )
Oh--. ( It has been, she realizes, so long. Since Haurchefant, was it? And that was years ago. ) I'd forgotten--
( What it was like to want another, to be desired and pleasured in turn. )
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[ It is not as though he has much in terms of proficiency with this, but it cannot be too difficult.
The movement of tongue and fingers, a not so idle dance; certainly he will have room to improve in future, but he will put himself to good use now. It would not do for his partner to leave unfulfilled, especially when she has offered him great pleasure, and he is doing all that he is able to ensure that she finds the evening as enjoyable as he has, in all senses of the term.
His fingers move along to grip the back of her thighs, up to her backside, and he lets himself touch the soft skin, enjoy the weight of her against his body. It is more pleasant than he had imagined, and he feels his lips twitch just a little.
The way she gasps is enough of an indication of where he ought to start, so he does so: his tongue drags along her as he holds on, finding her clit and beginning to press against it, to test the waters of her sensitivity and seek the best destination going forward. ]
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His touch is firm, warm, stronger than she expected it to be. Allowing herself to relax is difficult, but he make it easier -- Pahja gives herself over to him, to the feeling. His tongue is right where she wants it for now; the harder he presses against her clit the louder she gets, gasping gentle encouragement before moaning. )
Quick learner. ( She says by way of praise, biting her lip to hold her hips still and not overwhelm him. ) I don't know how long--
( She'll last, given how wonderful it was fucking him, how tight her own body is, how long it's been since someone last touched her. )
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There is no reason for Emet-Selch to be unkind to her - or, perhaps, in this case, no reason need be overly kind when it is so clear what she wants. He will give it to her without hesitation, and it will please them both: she was satisfied with his own pleasure and he will be well satisfied by hers.
The praise makes him feel good, and he shifts his weight to hold her with a touch more gentleness, letting her shift and move against him, to use him how she wants. He cannot really reply when she is occupying his tongue so well, but he hums against her in appreciation.
She is truly remarkable. ]
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Pahja blinks away her tears, swallowing the weight in her throat and letting herself moan louder, shifting her hips against his face with a desperate eagerness. Every press of his tongue against her clit has her shaking, one of her hands coming down to card through his hair, encouraging. )
Like that, Emet-Selch. If you want to use fingers, or your tongue-- you can, you can-- ( She is gentle with her direction, never wanting to shame him or make him feel as if she's chiding him. ) It's good, you're good, you really are--
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The fact that she remains so vocal does make him feel better about himself, though, and he presses up further, letting his tongue flick, and his fingers move to join him.
One finger slips inside her, his tongue pressing forward to go alongside it. ]
tsundere baby time
She'd say so, really, she would! But hopefully a sharp cry of want is reward enough as his finger presses in, as his tongue presses against her -- it's enough to wring out more sounds as he continues to move, her hand going to cord through his hair to keep him there. )
Emet-- ( What can she say? ) Please, more -- I won't break, I promise, and I need-- ( A breath, shaky. ) I need you.
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The sounds she is making are delicious, makes him feel a stirring inside himself, and he has to focus a little more to make sure he does not lose himself to the feeling.
His fingers move more, pressing into her, a second and then, eventually, a third, to give her all that she might desire and draw her pleasure from her, to have her break for him. ]