apokroteo | i just wanna rp.

( He's right, of course. She would never leave his arms for Thancred in truth, nor anyone on the Source or any shard that exists. Here, with him, is exactly where she wishes to be for as long as she has. And when her soul returns to the Aetherial Sea, she knows that he will return with her so their souls can find peace together until the next life.

There is comfort in that, Pahja thinks, of a bond that lasts throughout lives. )

I have a certain zest for danger, as anyone will tell you. ( Pahja jests, tail flicking in clear approval of the way he is not letting her go, keeping her here in his arms and so, so close. Jumping in without looking is her forte, and so she turns her head enough that their lips brush -- not kissing yet, but the promise is there. ) Now then, what ails you so, Hades, that I must remain here to tend to you alone?

( She moves slightly -- not to pull away, but to throw a leg over his hip, pulling herself more flush with him than before. But she does not press him for anything he is not willing to give. )

[ It's a game between the two of them, a little dance to tease and nudge at one another - not necessarily for fear of the truth but because of the simply enjoyment it brings. Emet-Selch is content with the notion of faux flirtation mixed with real. It is fun; the anticipation will make it all worth it.

He knows her soul as well as he knows his own and there is comfort in that; no matter what happens in the future he will see the colour and know it as partner to his own, that he had known as intimately as breathing.

The barest touch of their lips has his breathing hitching, eyes dark. ]

I had made note of it. [ His face twists at the reminder of his name - title is much easier to bear in this world - but he will not fault her for it. He can fault her for very little. ] It is a terribly irritating thing, having to save you so often.

[ Emet-Selch allows her movement, drawing her just as close, letting his arm settle around her properly and keep her tight against his body. ]

Perhaps I ought to have my reward for that if nothing else.

[ And, leaning in, he steals her mouth. ]

( He kisses her before she has a chance to respond with some remark; probably his plan all things told, and Pahja can't find it within her to break it in order to. She'll have the last word later, instead she occupies with kissing him back. Gentle, yes, but also with a longing she would be foolish to deny.

He has been taken from her so many times now -- each time harder to let go than the last, the more she learns about him. It is a great unfairness, she thinks, but her reward is him. Whole and hale and kissing her.

Pahja returns it with exuberance once she feels as if she is no longer taken aback by the sheer novelty of kissing him until she must break away. But she does not go far, happy to remain pressed against him.

Sliding her free hand into his jackets might be presumptuous, curling into the fabric over his heart to hold him fast, but Pahja has ached in heart and body too long to not learn what boundaries he is willing to set in the moment. Breathless she finally retorts, though it is far less of their push and pull and more wanting. )

Anything you might have of me, Emet, is yours until you no longer have to save me.

( Until they can both return to the star. Her own wide eyes darken further, narrowing in her eagerness to, if not devour him whole, then to enjoy the moment to the fullest. )

[ It is difficult not to lose himself in the kiss, in drawing her closer and letting himself feel completely overwhelmed by everything that she is offering him. The feeling of her soul is so achingly familiar that it feels almost too natural; it feels as though he has been waiting to do this from the moment they had met. He recalls the moment he saw her, registered her in his mind, and he knows he would never have been able to walk away from her.

Emet-Selch's head tilts, just a little, as he draws the kiss out for as long as he can. The feel of her in his arms is near enough perfection, and his grip only tightens as she reaches for him in return, her hold just as intense as his own. It is a reflection of their own want and desire, a reflection of how they feel for each other, desperation that has clung to them for months now.

There is a reason he has not left to explore the world as he had thought to do, following in Azem's footsteps. He is tied to her, chained to her, in heart and body. It is the only reason he tolerates the treatment the Scions give him.

Pausing for breath, he does not hesitate as he shifts his body, making space for her to settle in his lap properly, one hand trailing down her spine to touch at her hip, to curve around her backside as his expression turns teasing, dangerous. He will do more, wants to do more, but not without her command upon him.

One gentle kiss is left on her jaw, just by the curve of her neck. ]

I do not think there will come such a time. I find myself rather enthralled.

( They will wander together one day, when the mood takes her and the winds are right. Pahja hopes, wishes, expects Emet to follow; the chains she holds are made of love and not hate; if he should desire them broken then he need only say the word. For now, however, she is content to remain in place for a little while longer before setting out, wandering once more. There are so many mysteries -- as he so wisely pointed out -- that she will have plenty to contend with in time.

Ever living in the moment means that her focus is on the here and now, on Emet's grip on her and the way his lips feel against her skin, warm and resonating a familiarity deep within her soul. She gasps at the shock of it but welcomes it all the same -- she is Pahja, not Azem -- and only recently has she been able to define herself against the weight of that legacy. And in doing so, has never felt more herself nor more able to embrace the truth of her soul.

Emet's dark eyes capture her's and she wants nothing more than to fall into whatever his expression and gaze promise; settling fully into his lap and pushing back against his grip, wanting more. A nameless, all consuming want for everything he could give her, everything he would offer.

A breathless laugh his his reward at such praise, her eyes gleaming. )

Then by your leave, indulge. I would find not fault in it, nor the desire or want to dissuade you.

( If he should make her plead with him, well. Her pride makes her stride forward unbent and unbroken in her stubbornness, yet she knows when to fold the hand she was dealt in order to win.

Instead she presses a kiss to the tip of his nose, the crest of his cheekbones, the center of his forehead. The corner of his mouth in a gentle tease. )

[ The promise of the future is not something he had never thought of before, not in the terms of the future for himself. It had always simply been the Rejoining, returning the world to how it had been before Zodiark had been summoned to tear it asunder. The fact that he now has a choice of it...

He does not know what to do with himself, truly. The notion that he might be able to spend it with her, that he might walk with Pahja at his side. He had never imagined that he would have a warm and loving future, but given the way she speaks to him, the way she touches him, the way her lips press against his own - he imagines that, perhaps, he could do this a thousand times and never get bored.

Even when she looks at him, just now, he feels as though he has had more power in this moment then he ever had when he was in Elpis, when he was wrapped up in literal paradise.

Emet-Selch hums against her skin, his eyes closing for a brief moment, almost overwhelmed. ]

No, I imagine you would not. You have never been proficient in dissuading me from any course of action.

[ But he shifts, stealing another kiss, leaving a gentle nip on the bottom. His hand strokes against her, inviting but not taking, a slight flush on the height of his cheekbones. ]

( Emet is entrancing like this, Pahja thinks, smiling wide enough that her cheeks might hurt ere she continues. Perhaps not completely at ease with the world around him but comfortable enough to let down his guard with her -- the flush that spreads across his pale skin, his dark lashes against the same.

One of her hands comes up to cup the line of his jaw, fingers hooking behind it to hold him there while their kiss lasts; the small nip is enough encouragement for her to open her mouth to him, kissing him as deep as he will allow her to. Not demanding, never that -- especially now. But she can't help the warmth that flows through her, the desire that threatens to emerged from a banked fire in her heart.

For all the things life has taken away from her, she can keep this. She can have him. For as long as she lives, and for however long he will have her; perhaps afterwards, when their souls will return together. And again, and again--

There is peace there, in that truth. )

Not for lack of trying! ( She interjects, as if that is the point and not the way they fit together now, the way his hand curves around her ass and the way she rolls her hips forward -- shallow, questioning, asking. ) But in this-- are we of one mind, Emet?

( Pahja could not, would not presume until she hears it from him, however breathless he might make her. Pulling back only so she can watch his face, her eyes fixated on his ere he opens them, thumb caressing the blooming brush. )

[ While Emet-Selch is well aware of the fact that some might have called him handsome, once, and he had never had much issue acquiring a spouse for children, he had never put much thought into Pahja thinking the same. It had not been something he had dared to do when he had been naught but her foe, when he had been dedicated to the destruction of all she held dear, and now... He imagines himself more a monster than man now that she has seen who he is at heart.

The way she looks at him now, however, with fingers brushing gently over his skin, gazing at him before their lips meet in a kiss, makes him think otherwise. It is clear that she wants him, or at least some part of him, and that is an enchanting notion. He finds he wants to be wanted, at least by her - he has never been much concerned with the thoughts and feelings of her compatriots. He could not care less, and he is certain she is also aware of that.

Emet-Selch feels large in his arms, drawing her tight against his chest and breathing out gentle, voice a little deeper, coloured with want. ]

Yes, yes, you tried terribly hard and succeeded in the end. I was present, you know. [ Her hips move and his shift against hers, his eyes flying to her face briefly, wanting - wondering what it is that her heart desires.

He thinks he might be able to tell. ]

That depends. I would like to hear what thoughts compel you now.

( That he is not so unmoved by her, by this, is a bolstering thought. She knows he is interested, has suspected for a while -- and even on the First -- that it would be possible, but part of Pahja always envisioned him desperate not to show outwardly his want, his heart.

Full glad is she to know that it is not the case.

A monster to others he might be, a monster he might have become, but she could never claim to not understand why -- pushed to desperation, out of grief and longing. Set adrift for thousand upon thousands of years in the vain hope to reclaim the lives that were lost; she may not agree but she can never claim to never understand.

It hits an ache within her, this one of sorrow, when he holds her close. The slow rise and fall of his chest, the timber of his voice -- Pahja kisses him once more, deep and full of longing, before she responds. )

Nothing more than the wish to have all of you. ( A simple request, her eyes darting up to hold his gaze. And then, as the corner of her mouth turns up into a sly, scheming smile: ) To feel you in me, Emet. To have your hands on my hips and my breasts. To cry out with every thrust until the only word I can form is your name.

( Her eyes darken, pupils wide. )

Please, Emet-Selch.

[ It is a heady thing, to have his judge, executioner and saviour sitting upon his lap as she does now, gazing at him with wide, open eyes. It makes him long for more of her, the sort of thing that he is entirely unable to deserve, not with what he has done in his lifetime - all the lifetimes he has lived. The fact that Pahja still reaches for him, still wants him, is something of its own kind of miracle.

There is joy in it, in knowing that he is wanted, that someone has the heart to care for him knowing al l that he has within him.

Slow, gentle lips trail along her jawline, against the curve of her skin, testing the boundaries of his affection. He cannot find the means to stop nor cease, hands stroking along her waist and hips, his fingers exploring as he listens to her speak - sounding almost as though he might be in awe of her, of all that she carries.

If he were the man who might have the strength to blush he might now, but time has stolen that from him. He can do aught else. ]

All of me. A dangerous request for someone of your... Stature. [ She has seen all of him, and his fingers move, edging by her hips and shifting to settle between her legs. His eyes do not leave her face. ] I am a great deal to take.

[ He barely has the strength to move, to lean forward and kiss her, but his hips shift, just a little, grinding up against the shape of her body. There is no denying his wants now. ]

( All of him, and she does not look away. Instead she shudders, shivers at the touch of his lips and his fingers with want and a deep, unending affection that she knows is part of the core of her, her soul.It was not fate that made her love him, nor some greater design, but all of her celebrates the fact that she does.

Pahja runs her hand through his hair, claws scraping the skin at the nape of his neck gently, so gently. She will be kind to him, she wants to be good for him. To let him shuck the weight of his burdens for a time, to share them to the best of her ability. )

Has nothing I have accomplished proved that I am a woman of my word, yet still you doubt me? ( It is all she manages to get out before the unmistakable hardness of his want steals her breath away, the press of his fingers between her legs a tease that blows her eyes wide and her mouth open as a soft, shaky moan falls from her lips. Luckily he is there to swallow it, and she presses further -- mouth and lips to kiss him deeper, press down against him with another roll of her hips. ) All of you, Hades. Every sin, every burden, every scar on your soul.

( Her fingers drag down the line of his jaw, down his neck -- fingers brushing over his collarbones. But she does not wrap them around his neck, does not look on him with malice or even pity. There is only love in her gaze, in her touch as she rolls her hips once more, gasping at the friction. )

I want it all.

[ Emet-Selch is well aware that he could completely destroy her, should he desire; he doubts that she would ever wish to see him in his true form once again and allow that to have power over her. He is settled completely in this shape, in the Emet-Selch he has come to be, and there's no hiding his desire for her in this form either. It is heavy between them, reminding him of just how humanlike he has become in his age.

Desire is not unfamiliar to him, of course, not in the eons that he has lived, but to feel someone so close that he has wanted, that he has yearned for... It makes him a little needier than he might otherwise have been, a little more desperate and yielding to her wants and needs.

Not that he is an inattentive lover, of course.

All of it, that is what she asks for, and his fingers steal under her clothing, no barriers, prepared to push away the seams keeping him from her and devour her entirely. The gentle movement of her hips has him shaking, and he swallows, leaning in to kiss her again. ]

Take your clothing off. Now.

[ Then, breathless - ]

I may not have a soul to show you as we speak, but I have a body.

( Oh.

His touch has her shaking already, and Pahja swallows heavily against his lips in order to hold herself together or they both will shake apart too soon. She wants to see him come undone this way, whole and hale, than through violence -- but by her hand, still. Curling her fingers into his clothes makes heeding his request difficult, and Pahja kisses him with a desperation she's finally allowing herself to feel: wanting him, losing him, and now -- having him at last. It makes it difficult to separate herself from him.

But she does, gasping as she ends the kiss so that she can strip as quickly as possible. One for flashiness, Pahja curses her taste in clothing as it takes time to shed it all -- and every moment spent not pressed against him is time wasted. )

Even that, Emet -- that will be enough. ( Breathless, she rolls her hips down against him, gasping at the weight and the hardness against her. Close to what she wants, what they want, but not quite. ) On the First I thought-- ( Pahja swallows her hesitation, continuing on-- ) I thought I might love you given time.

( Her tunic is off, cast to the side carelessly. Gooseflesh rises on her bare skin in the coolness of the air; grey-blue skin almost blending into the surrounding stone of Mor Dhona. Next are her gloves, her boots, and finally her shorts and smalls -- though this she does have to life herself up off of him to rid herself of them.

The fact that he remains fully dressed doesn't bother her; she's not a shy woman, and is quick to resettle against his hips and his chest the moment she can, enjoying the feeling of expensive cloth and fur against her bare skin.

Her fingers curl again into his clothes as she pulls him down for another kiss, demanding and accepting all at once. )

Let me see your body then, let me show you how much I love you.

[ There is a certain electricity between the two of them, born of mutual want and desire, a spark of affection that has transformed itself into a flame.

Emet-Selch is aware that he has been given something of a second chance, the world changed before him and a warrior reaching for him and offering him salvation. The fact that he is now able to watch that self-same warrior undress and share herself with him is a boon he had never anticipated, something he had not dared to dream. Midnight thoughts that wander in the dark is not the same as conscious daydream, his tight control resisting it, but all the same...

Watching her unravel herself, take off her layers and let them drop to the side, is a miracle beyond anything paradise might have offered him.

Careful hands rest on her hips as soon as he is able again, shifting up so that his cock can press against her, wanting more and more of her but still barred by fabric and his own tense self-control. The temptation to lift her by the arm and press her against the wall, to have her that way, crosses his mind once more and he has to force himself to breathe out and remain calm. Another time, perhaps.

Eyes lift as he listens to her speak and his throat goes dry. ] Given time? Has there been time enough, Pahja, or must I beg more of you in future?

[ Pahja settles down against him and he reaches to stretch his fingers over bared skin, her hip, up to her chest, letting his thumb rub on the edge of her. He gives into her kisses because he has no other choice - not when his other hand is already slipping back between her legs, feeling her with no barrier, nothing to keep him from what he wants - to give her the greatest pleasure and feel her fall apart for him and no other.

Emet-Selch has always been selfish.

Nipping her mouth, he hums, the sound tailing into a groan as he realises his own desire, twinned with hers, how much they want one another and how close they are to sharing it. ]

Do whatever you desire with me. I am naught but yours.

Enough by half. You will never be free of me now, not in this life and not in the next.

( No, their souls will stay together. A silly pledge to make, perhaps, but is one she would swear by. If there was one thing the past gods-know-how-long has taught her it is that her soul belongs with his and Hythlodaeus.

She would tell him that, if he were not so successful at diverting her thoughts from anything but this: the press of her flesh against his clothes, the feel of his cock against her, the groan that escapes him. Her lower lip catches between her teeth as she endeavors to keep it together long enough to direct him. But he is touching her at last, only serving to make her burn more for him instead of quenching the ache.

Curving into him, Pahja presses open-mouthed kisses along his jaw, letting her fangs drag over the soft, pale skin of his neck. They are not delicate people, the two of them, but she is careful not to break skin. There is a time and a place for roughness, and part of her desperately wants to test their limits, but now... now she just wants to bask in the glory of having him. )

I want to come by your touch. ( That much should be obvious, the way she shifts down against his fingers, wanting more. Like this, she thinks, against his clothes -- if they stain then he will simply have to magic it away. No great feat for him, she's certain. ) And then I would have you strip down and lie there and fuck me until we exhaust ourselves. I want to see your face, Emet.

( She wants to see him lose himself. That is not so big of a request, Pahja thinks, that they can't come to an agreement. )

I think that is a burden that I might not fear to carry.

[ Her soul found his time and time again, after all, so he has no reason to imagine he might escape her now. The notion of it is one that he cannot fathom, not when he has been brought to her side, not when she has found him and reached for him, loved him, wanted him. Emet-Selch wants nothing more than to keep her with him, to keep the taste of her in his mouth for the eons that lay before them.

There is no hesitation in the way his head tilts for her, allowing her access to his neck and whatever else she might desire. Of course there is no doubt that she wants his clothing gone, just as he has hers, but there is something deliciously decedent about her nakedness against his fabric. It is made all the more delicious for her gentle commentary, the way she speaks and leaves him flushed and wanting.

No hesitation follows his movements, his eyes dark and settled as his fingers finally press between her legs properly, less explorative and more firm. Yes, he is hard, yes, he is wanting, but her pleasure comes first; not only because he wishes it to be so but because she has demanded it, she wants it of him, and Emet-Selch recognises his own desire to serve her to the best of all that he has.

It is a tease at first, of course, because there is no need to rush when they have hours ahead of them, but his lips do curl into a smile. ]

Then come you shall, my love, before I make good use of this ground we have been given.

[ He will fuck her, there is no denying that, and he will make her come again as he does so, but for now his fingers do the work. His freer hand, the one not teasing, settles on her behind and holds her in position, pressing his fingers up properly, his eyes watching her face. He knows how to bring a woman pleasure, knows how to have her fall apart on his fingers, and he does so now - a slow, building pace, testing the waters and letting his thumb press.

Eventually she will get his fingers, eventually he will feel her shake around him, he will taste her, devour her, but for now he wants to learn what she likes, what she enjoys, how much pressure, how fast or slow. ]

You will experience it all.

( Pahja knows that no one will understand this, how enamored they are with each other, how she trusts him and wants to be undone by his touch. How she loves him, and he her. But it isn't her job to explain herself to any who question her; she will relish every touch, every word from Emet in her own way. And shower him with her own until there is no mistaking the depths of her emotion.

His flush is endearing -- she reaches up to trace the bloom of red across his cheekbones before twisting her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. The other curls into the fabric of his clothes, relishing the feeling of it against her skin. Having him naked before her will come, just as sure as she will, but for now she enjoys the decadence of letting him have her bare before him. )

I have no doubt--

( The light touch has her squirming against him in an attempt for more, mouth falling open as she holds his gaze -- golden, tired, and full of want and desire. She can only hope that he can see how much she intends to enjoy this on her own face, cheeks darkening with her own flush, spreading down her neck and over her chest.

When his fingers finally press up and touch her she rewards him with a sharp gasp and a tightening of her fingers. It isn't enough, it won't be enough until he is fingers deep in her. She moves again, a half-hearted protest of the pace he is testing out, rubbing up against his cock as much as she can at the same time. )

Tease. ( She accuses him, mouth turning up into a small smirk as her legs twitch from the press of his thumb against her. ) More. Harder, Emet, I can take it--

( Even if he doesn't, even if he wants to make her squirm and beg for him, Pahja knows he won't leave her unsatisfied. )

[ Once upon a time an encounter like this would simply have been a means to an end - for children, for his empire, for his plans. With Pahja it is nothing more than his own want and his own feelings, nothing more than genuinely desiring her pleasure above all else. Emet might even have found himself content to give her a shattering orgasm and leave himself untouched; all he wants is to see her, hear her, as she falls apart for him.

There's no doubt that she knows what she wants, is clear with her desires, and he has no hesitation as he adjusts his own legs to near enough force her legs open for him. She's clinging to him and it's enough to leave him feeling heady and desperate, wanting to tear his clothing off and press her into the ground below them. Luckily, for all that he might jest on the matter, he has mustered some level of patience. ]

Perhaps I am simply enjoying myself.

[ Every sound and expression she makes is delicious and all he can do is drink them in. When his fingers finally move it's with a slow, careful press of his forefinger inside of her, thumb still moving in sure motions, learning her wants, feeling her move and grind against him. One finger is nothing compared to the rest of him, of course, but he will take his time to open her, to prepare her, to ensure that she is drowning in want, pleasure and desire before he takes what is his.

Lips curling, he leans in to kiss her as his finger moves, testing her patience once again - slow, steady, teasing. She can take anything he gives her, there's no denying that, but that doesn't mean he has no want to indulge himself in a lengthy encounter. ]

Is that enough, my love?

( She spreads her legs for him willingly and unabashedly. He could ask her to do so anywhere and she would if it meant him giving her what she wants, no question. Not the wisest choice, but Pahja has long accepted that she will never pick the wisest choice when it comes to Emet.

In fairness, neither does he.

It takes a few breathless moments for her to put together words to counter him, voice low and as wanting as her body. )

Am I a meal for you to take your time savoring?

( Not that Pahja would complain. But another time, unless he intends to stretch her to the limits and keep her in agony.

The moan that escapes her as a finger slips in is unabashed, louder than the small groans from earlier -- she is not ashamed of how much she desires him, desires this, and enjoys it. That others might be doesn't occur to her; she simply cares about letting Emet know. Let him hear so that there is no mistake in his mind that she knows it is him, only him.

Not that there could be any doubt now. Pahja relinquishes her vicelike grip on his clothes to slide her hand down, cupping his cock through his clothes. Her mouth stays open when he kisses her as she simply gives him pressure and no friction -- her own tease. She set the rules for this encounter, after all, and giving him anything more would be violating them.

Biting his lip -- the tips of her fangs gently catching his lower lip as she pulls away -- she manages a shake of her head. )

No! No and you-- ( Her grip on his hair tightens, tugging his head down so that she can place wet, open mouthed kisses on his skin. Rolling her hips she attempts to get him to hit deeper, to quicken the teasing pace he's set. ) Oh-- you know that.

You are indeed a meal for me.

[ And he is genuine with it, watching her as he does with his dark eyes and intense expression. There's no denying that he could devour her if he wished, no matter what form he is in, but he takes his in stride. Her pleasure is paramount, beyond anything else.

In this he has no reason to be difficult, to be exasperated, to be anything more than simply hers. She has brought him back from the brink and he will ignore it no longer.

He is not the type to mind that someone might overhear, that there may be some questions later - he takes pride in the knowledge that she is gaining pleasure from his touch, that she can move against his fingers and demand more of him, to take from him everything that he has to offer. Emet-Selch watches her as she shivers and moves, as she wants from him, and his eyes never move too far from her face.

Leaning into her kisses, he resists the urge to laugh, a sharp little thing in the back of his throat. ]

I know a great deal of you, my Pahja, and I shall learn more in time.

[ It does not take long until he gives her another finger, pressing two inside of her and curling them just a little, enough that he can begin to learn a sense of her best pleasure, where she most wants from him, what he can do to bring her to orgasm before she can tease him into breaking. ]

( Pahja is all-too willing to be devoured by him, heart and soul and body. It is far less dangerous in her mind than half the things she's done recently -- Emet would not hurt her now, he wouldn't dare. And, Pahja thinks, he wouldn't bear the thought.

Neither would she.

The press of another finger into her has her shaking around him, tightening around his fingers as he curls them -- not enough, she can take more. He knows she can, and the tease has her biting her lip trying to keep herself from chastising him first thing. But the curl does succeed in ripping another moan from her, grip on him tightening. )

Your Pahja? I-- I like the sound of that. ( A breath, her chest heaving with the effort it takes to form words. She shifts her hips slightly so he can hit deeper and her voice catches with a soft moan. That it also means she rubs against his cock is a side benefit. ) Yours, then. Unless you-- ( Another roll of her hips to adjust the curve of his fingers. ) Ah! Un--unless you continue to tease!

( Not that Pahja minds. It's just as enjoyable as rushing quickly into it, this dragging it on and making her wait. Even if he is a tease. )

[ The very fact that he is being given a second chance is something overwhelming, something he does not know how to handle, and he feels completely undone by the very nature of it. There is no part of him that could ever deserve her nor the love and affection she offers.

He is well aware of the fact that the rest of her peers do not approve; they are not particularly keen on anything to do with him, on anything that he might give to her or offer her. To them he is nothing more than a monster. The fact that she has been able to see beyond that; that she has still decided to want and love him is a blessing. He will not let anyone come between them.

Emet-Selch is well aware of how much she can take, but he is careful, nudging her towards pleasure with careful movements of his fingers. His expression is set, determined, ignoring his own wants and desires to focus on her, to try and not to shake and shiver as she grinds against the hard outline of his cock. It makes him ache, wanting her, desperately, but he resists.

She comes first - in all ways. ]

You would, possessive creature that you are. [ His lips twist, smirking, as he leans down to kiss along her jawline, scraping his teeth against her skin. ]

I am not teasing. I am preparing.

Are you not mine in turn? My Emet-Selch, my Hades. ( Her's, her's, her's. Selfish and greedy, maybe, but Pahja has given too much to this star for her not to have something that is her's, that she will not have to relinquish at some point for the greater good. He is here with her until their souls depart and that is enough. For both of them. ) Preparing--

( Oh. He is rather larger than her, Pahja struck by the sudden realization with what that implies, but a stray thought enters her mind for a moment that she can't help but voice, head falling to the side to give him all the access to her neck that he needs. )

Not-- not to distract you or anything but, later-- ( A shudder, panting her words now as she shifts against him. There is a burning heat in her that only he can quench and she wants, she wants him to bury his fingers in her and then his cock until she can think of nothing else. ) I'll take you like this, Emet, and then you can prepare me more and I'll have you transformed too, if you have a cock and even if you don't, just keep going--

( She's babbling through the soft sounds of wants, breaking off into a small keen. Focus, Pahja tries to tell herself, focus. And try to get him to break. )

You'll ruin me, won't you? I will never take another lover, not after you, not after having your fingers and your cock, your love--

( Possessive and greedy. Pahja continues to move against his fingers as if she has something to prove, trying to see if she can get him to brush a fingers across her clit -- something, anything. It's close but it's not enough and if he's going to insist on taking his time preparing she will make it as hard for him as it is for her, pun intended. )

Oh, to be so claimed is a dangerous thing, Pahja. To lay claim over the beast that would sunder the world... You would truly bear such a mantle? [ The idea of her wanting to keep him, to have him forever, leaves his hands shaking just a little bit, his fingers brushing over her hip as he lets his other hand twist and push gently. He knows what he is doing, knows what is happening, but he feels overwhelmed by the nature of her words.

She is too soft, too gentle, but he wants her, all of her, to keep and to claim and to have for as long as she will permit. The fact that she is so very willing to take him in all ways that he can offer. As she continues to speak it feels as though he is getting harder and harder, his voice coming out with a sort little moan. ]

You have no desire to distract me but speak of taking me in the fullest of forms? I could break you, dearest Pahja, I could tear you in half with the size of me, and you still think on it? You saw me-

[ He leans forward, his back awkwardly bent as he shoves his face into her neck and breathes her in. He's shaky with it, wanting more of her, wanting to take her, own her, but all he can do is swallow. ]

No one else will ever touch you. No one else will ever have you the way I have, for as long as I shall live beside you. I am going to fuck you so hard that you will never even dream of another man nor woman touching you.

[ His other hand finally moves away from her hip and slips around as a third finger nudges at her; his other thumb begins to rub over her clit gently, beginning to move harder, faster, more intensely, all to see her come for him. ]

Yes, ( And it rings out loud in the air of Mor Dhona as Emet slide another finger in her, as he picks up his pace to something finally nearing what she wants. Her hands curl into his hair, twisting and holding his face tight against her neck, his lips hot against her skin as she feels all of her tighten around him, around his fingers. Her voice is rough, wanton, punctuated by gasps and moans but she cannot stop the words that flow from her. ) I claim you, Emet-Selch, you are my burden to bear, mine to love. In all forms. Break me, tear me in half if you would but if it is by your hand, your cock, I will--

( He steals her words away by the sheer force of his want, his desire, and she can feel that she is close now, but not there yet. His hands work wonders against her, inside of her, and perhaps it was so greedy of her to ask him to have nothing while she has everything but oh, she doesn't regret it. Pahja will pay him back tenfold through whatever means he would ask of her for this moment, for her naked against his chest, clinging to his clothes as desperation overtakes them.

It takes a moment for her to adjust to his fingers, to the pace he sets, but then she moves with him, chasing the nearing high while trying, however vainly, to make sure his cock is not completely abandoned, be it the friction of her moving against him or the rough bump as she meets the thrust of his hands. )

No one else, Emet. I see you. I saw you, and I want-- Oh! Emet, Emet-- ( She cracks, but it doesn't feel like desperation -- it feels like freedom. ) Hades, please--

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