( but maybe she doesn't want that. maybe she wants to be with him in all the important ways, and shoulder the burden of loss and grief and waiting. how can she let him hurt alone?
but maybe tonight will be a good start. tonight, she can reach for him and he'll be there. )
i like when you're a good fishie for me
i'll be very gentle. what are we practicing first?
well i could show u first then u let me know if im right
also brb ill be a little late sorry
( she won't be replying until the doorbell rings and she turns up 15 minutes late, carrying a bottle of special wine and looking very pleased with herself. she'd gotten distracted on her way here, and had been compelled to follow the trail to an old school winery that sold pomegranate wine — she just had to have it, sorry, raf. )
[ well, for all intents and purposes she did notify him. unlike the time in the past, where the smell of the hospital's disinfectant still stings his nose, she wasn't anywhere out of his reach. ... and maybe in the slightest, he may have lingered in her mind.
or so he's fuss about, but in reality between him organizing the seafood that's been delivered at his home in bulk for them to enjoy. crabs, scallops, claims, fresh fish, and even one or two fish that remain in a decorative bowl. he looks down at them, talking to them out loud, even as she enters. ]
Should I file a complaint? Already 15 minutes late... any later and our stomachs will collapse into themselves and we'll starve. [ dramatics, per usual. obviously loud enough for her to hear through the door, even as he acts "surprised" when he opens it. ]
Oh, I had thought you forgot the way here since it's been a while.
[ despite his "complaint," he does seem to be welcoming her in by moving slightly out of the way of the door. all the more when his eyes... fall on the wine. ]
Who are you going to file that complaint to? A dolphin judge?
( she asks him light-heartedly, admiring the wide array of seafood that he'd been grumbling to, because of course he'd pour his heart out to them, right? still, she holds up the wine she's been holding, because life and fate is funny like that, showing off the bottle to him, hundreds of years on. )
I caught a whiff of this when I was on the way to you. Can you believe that this place has been around for a few hundred years? I was told that their winery's a small family business, and that it pairs quite well with seafood. ( she's admiring the label, then turns back to him expectantly. ) Bold choice, huh?
Nah, dolphins are kinda bullies... I don't think it would sit right with the rest of the fish. The second they'd come in, their eyes would be as large as a shrimp's encountering a whale for the first time. [ a common saying in lemuria, probably.
still, he does seem to settle down in the sense that he doesn't push this color narrative he's crafted any further. lets his metaphors die out on the tip of his tongue to make way for the wine, in which she describes emphatically. his lips curve into a small, almost subdued smile. as if it has all the makings of nostalgia, and maybe something else. ]
Are you sure you're here for me and not the seafood? [ thanks for the raf memes.
but, the wine probably would do a decent pairing in more ways than one. it reminds him a lot of a wine couples may share on their weddings night, and it makes him think of the dress and veil is probably keeps in the closet, ready for valentines day or any other holiday to surprise her with. for now, it remains there. ] Buuuut, since you started this bold, it makes me wonder how you'll finish this.
( bullies, huh. that lines up with what she knows about them. but her thoughts aren't on the dolphins now, they're on the way his eyes are focused on the wine, a strange, indescribable. she's never seen that smile before, and in this moment rafayel has never seemed so distant from her, like he's stepped into another world, parallel to her own, present but unreachable.
she tilts her head briefly, before she steps forward and musters a small smile, wanting to breach the distance, and uncover one of his many, many secrets. she sets the wine on the table so that she can be all up in his personal space, delicate and exploring. )
Does it count if it's both you and the seafood? ( a gentle tease, before she reaches up to cup his cheek. ) We'll finish this with a bath, and your favorite candles and bath salts. And maybe I'll warm you better than your bathwater.
[ the fact that she just gets it, makes him offer her a hint of a smile. a lighthearted sort of laugh at her silent agreement about the dolphins. though, it seems to die out by the time he realizes her eyes are settled on him for a second too long, as if she were on the verge of grasping something he's done particularly well in concealing. hence, he's about to clear his throat, but it looks like she beats him to the punch.
just like that she places the wine on the counter, and she comes in close. he can feel her warmth upon proximity and just like that, he leans into her touch. he gingerly places his hand on the back of hers, nuzzling his cheek into her palms. ] You really have no restraint.
[ he says even when his hand seamlessly slides over her wrist. tenderly, he places a chaste kiss on her fingertips. ]
It is about bath time, you're right. And here I thought I was supposed to be your reminder. [ ... ] But, you didn't forget about practicing that other thing did you?
( how far will he run, if she tightens her grip? she knows that he's a flight risk, a master of sleight of hand and misdirection, but she can't quite tell why.
but he's back, leaning into her touch. he's so very, very pretty, otherworldly, so fitting of what he truly is. the petal-soft press of his lips is a tease, and she smiles, intent on teasing him. )
[ when she's this close, the thoughts in his head run rampant. the past, the present, the future. all these concepts meld together in his head, and yet at the end of it all was only one thing. her. it's what keeps his eyes so focused on hers and his movements so careful, but hopelessly deliberate.
even when he knows he should pull back...
he doesn't. ] Holding onto me. You said you'd be gentle. [ he says as he draws closer, letting his breath brush against her lips. slow and steady as he remains impossibly near to her. ] Y'know, your memory really is bad. [ or so he says, but his lips touch hers.
it was brief, genuinely an innocent tap, but it's all that takes for him to lean in and kiss her for real. but it doesn't stop the tips of his ears from heating up. ]
he kisses her, and it's magical. she's not usually subscribed to fairytales, but the softness of his lips, the warmth of his words feels like the sea under a cloudless day. her hand comes to curl in the back of his head, toying with his hair. his comment on her memory makes her smile, bittersweet. he's not wrong; and it's why she grasps for every chance, every little opportunity to imprint his presence in her life. the plushies, the notes she painstakingly makes about what he likes and dislikes, every ticket to every event they've gone to. all the things they make together.
she huffs a soft laugh, her other hand coming to rest on his waist when she presses flush to him, feeling the heat of his body on hers. she's gently nudging him back into the sofa, coming to straddle him. )
I want to remember you. ( she murmurs against his lips, chasing the taste of him. it's a confession that is soul-deep, touching on a yearning that goes beyond this life. she's forgotten, she knows. and he knows more than he lets on. )
[ in moments like these, he can't deny wondering how much of their past has been engraved on her soul. how much of the devotion she once promised him still remained, and how much of it could he actually win back. while the memories may have washed away like a message bottle carried off to newer, foreign shores— he can't help but believe that maybe even a small fraction of it still subsisted inside of her. when she nestled in her bed at night, her eyes closed, did she recall the lull of the sea whilst traversing the oceans together, or the sound of the waves crashing the shore the remained so far out of sight that it nearly seems like the horizon is backwards?
he wonders if he would always be curious like this; always wanting more. these are brief, transitory thoughts that flit in and out of his mind, but in reality when their lips touch like this, he wonders if any of that truly mattered. wasn't it enough that she was here now? while she's gentle, he feels his weight being displaced as the sofa hits the back of his knees, and so he falls. like a carefully laid trap, his back hits the sofa. he watches as she settles on top of him.
... his bodyguard really had no restraint in moments like these.
his hand naturally comes to grip the back of her thighs. he looks at her briefly, before he presses his lips against hers again. this time a touch more urgent, his hand coming behind her to pull her close so he could taste her further.
it really is a confession, and it shows from the way his chest rises and falls, or how loud his heartbeat rings in his own head. he wonders if she can hear it too. feel it too. ] Wooow, don't you think you're a little late?
[ he ghosts another kiss on the side of her lips, then her chin, and then he looks back to her. ] So? What should I do to make sure Miss Forgetful doesn't forget anymore? [ also... was straddling him gentle? he isn't sure about that, but he lets it go this time. ]
( straddling him like this is totally gentle, hasn't he seen other fishies being straddled before? her arms are wrapped around him to brace herself, and she has to look down now that he's level with the rise of her bosom.
it's easy enough, all it takes is a little bow, and a shift to capture his lips with hers, parting her own to invite him to explore, her tongue slipping against his gently, as if to soothe that urgency, to show him that she's here. unbeknownst to her, the special, engraved spot on her chest glows red, pulsing and calling to its mate.
her eyes are lidded, and rafayel is all that she sees, front and center. she massages his scalp, and in this moment she reaches behind her to pull the zipper of her dress down, letting it loosen over her lithe frame, slipping down to reveal the lace of her bra, the extent of fair skin, the more pronounced valley of her breasts.
she looks down at him and grabs his chin so that he will meet her eyes, she's a touch uncertain, but still determined. rolling her hips on him, giving him a warm grind, she murmurs. )
[ the marks on their bodies— no, the physical evidence of their bond... is so clear in moments like now. he feels that natural draw towards her, and he feels like he would listen any words her lips may have uttered. with her settled here on his lap, there's so many thoughts that dart through his mind, and yet the one that remains the strongest is the pining he still feels. he feels like he's answering a call that's been so long overdue that he no longer remembers who is on the other line.
familiar, unfamiliar— forgotten, remembered. everything seems to mix together to create a cacophony of bubbling emotions.
her body is like an art piece, so much so that when he reaches out he's almost surprised by how warm to the touch it is. as it should be. she was here and as much his bride as ever. it shows in the kisses they exchange, or the way in which she moves her hips on his lower body.
he lets out a soft moan, subdued if just for him breathing in intensely. ] You... [ she really knew how to lure him in.
was this supposed to be a lesson for her, or him?
his voice seems to drop a little lower and a bit huskier. ] I'm not someone who takes advantage of others, but there are exceptions. [ he breathes against her neck. ] Don't forget, you asked for this. [ he leans into her chest, his face rubbing against her chest for a moment. his fingers curling around her back, unhooking her bra. he does it before he even realizes he does, but he doesn't show any signs of remorse.
the tips of his fingers trace over her breasts, following the natural curves of her body. he leaves a trail of kisses from the center of her chest to right over where her bond glows. rafayel sucks on her skin, letting his tongue press against it as if savoring every inch. he creates one mark, then another... leaving several more in his wake. ]
( perhaps this is always what it should've been, the god of the sea and his bride, entwined and given over to passion. but the rules of the world is cruel, and rafayel has made a sacrifice that should never have been asked of him.
her emotions are inexplicably intensified, a shimmer of memory that sharpens her longing. the spirit of the bride shifts, and she looks down to see the glow of her own chest, her heart beating for him. she is his, she knows; and even if rafayel rarely breathes a word of it, she understands deep down in her soul that she has always belonged to him.
the touch of his fingers, his lips, they burn and set her alight in her longing for him. and oh, oh, the velvet pitch and that husky voice makes her shiver, pleasure going right down south in a heartbeat and making her squirm. what a crime it is that he can do this to her, make her want. the moan she makes when his hungry lips find the swell of her full, plump breasts is heartfelt, dusky pink nipples peaking when her bra falls away and kiss-bruise blossom on her fair, fair skin.
she's pressing up against him, chasing his attention as her fingers card through his hair, her hips bearing down on him to rub up against the bulge of his cock through his pants, shared heat driving her wild. she laughs softly, cupping her own breast and showing off for him, thumbing over her peaking nipple in gentle invitation. she will never forget the way that gaze sweeps over her, how he takes her in like she's a work of art; which is ridiculous because the masterpiece is seated right under her. )
Mmhmm... don't you want a taste of this, too?
( and goodness, her free hand is not idle, deftly unzipping him from his confines to reach in, fingers curling around his length. )
[ there has always been that fear in him. the idea of relinquishing control over his own emotions, body, and even his spirit was terrifying, and yet it was also poignant and just as beautiful a concept as any. whatever bitterness he may have carried just seems to linger, festering just beneath the surface of his touches in which predominately are overtaken by a burning sting of an even stronger desire. love was not a term lemurians used loosely; for lemurians loved for life, and the fire of such devotion was forever.
the kisses he leaves on her body are proof of that bond. the waiting, the longing. it all feels worth it in this moment. when her fingers comb through his hair, and her body grinding down on his length, it's enough stimulation to make him lose his mind. he isn't sure what kind of sounds he makes, but he can feel his chest pounding and the collective warmth they share leaves his skin slightly moist with sweat.
when she puts her own body on full display like this, her breasts are tender and soft under his touch and when she touches them, he feels himself his pants become even tighter. his tongue takes to this invitation as it swirls around her exposed nipple, his teeth lightly nipping, before his eyes look back up to her. he speaks even with his busied mouth. ]
Are you feeding me? [ he says it with a small huff, and despite his attempt at a joke, there's a certain intensity to it. ] Then, I'll have this one first, but also... I can't forget about the other one, either. [ he speaks quiet, low, as if they were sharing a secret reserved just for them.
rafayel continues to suck on her pert bud with fervor, his tongue flicking over them as his other hands draws to give her other breast equal attention; his fingers rolling over her nipples, and gently pinching. when she unzips him, it's both a relief, but also... bold enough to get an almost strained sound from him. the anticipation is already driving him wild, and he nearly has to restrain himself from pushing her down and getting on top of her.
( she knows that fear; she has seen it clear as day in his eyes, in the spaces between words, in the way he's drawn to her despite his misgivings, more than acquainted with his long — and if the scraps of her dreams are anything to go by, tragic — history. she can't blame him, because she's just as drawn to him as he is, the centuries-old vow keeping them bound.
the kisses he leaves on her body burns, her heart thudding fiercely with every touch of his lips. their bodies slot together like they've always belonged, and kiyomi can't help a swell of love for him, of fierce affection and protectiveness. she can't help a soft laugh at that question, eyes bright and focused only on him, her cheeks pink with warm embarrassment and determination both.
the slick heat of his tongue, the suction he applies on her nipple makes her gasp and cling to him further, pressing forward in an eager bid for more, pulling taut and jutting proudly, begging for his attention. it's shameful, how she responds to him so swiftly, and she presses soft kisses to his forehead, stroking him from root to tip, her thumb tracing tentatively along his shaft to toy with the sensitive slit, pressing in lightly. )
They don't have milk in them — hnnn — don't be too disappointed...
[ you'd think after years of pining after this collective bond they share, they would have long casted aside any sense of abashment. but, he can't deny being endeared to her small displays of embarrassment. his chest swells with a certain degree of pride, as if her current state was entirely of his own making. as if he molded it with his own hands, and in some ways, maybe that isn't entirely off. except, it probably went both ways.
his hands still travel over her body, they feel her with certain heat that he feels he can no longer control. while his emotions may have one been as steady as the tides, his passion now burns hotter than the flames he possesses. but, almost opposite to his haste to have her, is definitely the component of him taking his time in tasting her. he still holds her breasts, squeezing them just enough for him to angle them better in his mouth, enough for his slick tongue to envelop them in their velvety softness.
until he's almost thrown off by her words—
jk, when he pulls away, there's a string of saliva still attached to his lips, and he almost seems out of it. ]
Are you sure? I feel like I'm getting close. Maybe I have to try a little harder. [ a joke...
even in the midst of this. but, he's also having a hard time when she's touching him like that. it's embarrassingly obvious, especially when his tip is already glistening with the sign of his obvious arousal. it coats that thumb of hers which keeps rubbing him.
in spite that, he moves his hand from her chest to her hips, to her legs. his palms begin to massage her upper thighs, as they travel higher and closer to her core. his brows furrow just slightly, almost as if he were deliberating on what to taste next. but with the way his fingers are moving, it might be clear what that might be... ]
( his lips are so, so kissable and so sweet, and the heat of his hands make her body sing, when she greedily presses up into him and meets passion for passion, a breathless, shaky moan spilling from her lips when he sucks on her breasts, that line of saliva sending her pulse skyrocketing.
and his eyes, oh, his eyes... she's sure her own are just as dilated, but she's entirely focused on him. kiyomi knows where he's reaching to, her own affection for him deep as the sea, her love and desire knowing no bounds. perhaps she's still that girl that he saved from the sea, that girl that sealed their vow with a kiss and bound her to him, all those lives ago. theirs is a complicated, primal love, and perhaps rafayel is wise to be afraid of her, and yet —
— yet, she wants him with all of her heart. and his own. she shifts to urge him out of his pants and briefs, then grabs a hold of his hand to guide him closer, closer, underneath the flimsy lace of her panties to where her soft, pink pussy is already wet and yearning, clenching around nothing. )
Maybe one day. ( she breathes, her own breath hitching before she rolls her hips down on his fingers. ) You can tear it up, if you want.
[ kiyomi's reaction only fuels whatever desires have already been burning within him. much like fanning an open flame, each movement she makes, or the way in which only their breaths are the only thing that can be heard between him rouses him and continues to push him past the edge. it isn't that rafayel had ever been particularly patient. it's just the bitter years of waiting have waned any semblance of self-discipline he may have otherwise had. or perhaps, it's just his want that has always been this great.
her body is much like a canvas in which his hands travel and pay reverence to. displaying each bit of devotion to his craft, his thumb rubs up against the lace of her panties, feeling the wetness between her legs. when he hears her words, he doesn't think twice before he pulls at the lace, which by all accounts is more delicate a material than he expects. he hopes he hasn't ruined them, and there's a small sound from the back of his throat when he does. is it his own way of showing his remorse, or is it actually that he's letting her know that there could be more that he could be sorry for? ] Oops.
[ but, the way his eyes lingers on her every curve and seems to fall between her thighs, in which he settles himself against...
is he really that sorry? still, he likes the way she comes down on his fingers. his index and middle flinger slip in with relative ease, he curves them upwards, rubbing against her inner walls, feeling the way she naturally clenches against them. just the pure imagination of it all is enough to drive him crazy. ]
But, what do you want? Are my fingers enough? [ his voice is low when he speaks. measured between his words. not because he's being particularly careful with them, but because it takes all his concentration just to get them out. it's hard when she's so alluring. ] Do you want them deeper?
( rafayel is a revelation, a collection of mysteries, heartache, and a glimmer of joy amongst the unknowable ocean of impossible depths. in this moment, she feels closer to him than she ever has, feels as if she can unravel him and know his thoughts, to figure out what makes him tick.
his hands are warm, searching, setting every sense alight as he explores. there are scars from endless fights and long-forgotten memories, so many of them faded into the canvas; but others can still be felt, and she can't help a surge of self-consciousness whenever his touch brushes them. still, she buries it, distracted by the way he tears up the lace. )
Raf —
( the chide is half-hearted at best, breathless and filled with longing, her gaze hungry and lidded. she gasps, squeezing tight and tensing when she feels those elegant, beautiful fingers push inside of her slippery-slick cunt. she grips him tightly, as if she's been afforded something she's long been craving, and she shivers, leaning down with flushed cheeks, her other hand curling in his hair.
she slips her hand down, down, unzipping and freeing him from the confines of his pants, and is suddenly reminded of that time he'd been in heat, how he'd craved touch, and she nudges her nose against his so she can claim his lips to kiss him, heated and wanting. )
No. They're not enough. Oh — ( she's nearly slurring against his lips, enthralled by his skill. ) Please... deeper. You're so close — ( then, a soft little smile. )
Give me both, tonight. Do you — do you need to be in the tub...?
[ in moments like these, he's never quite sure what kiyomi is thinking of? is she thinking of him? does she desire him as much as he does? even with their bond, he isn't sure if what he feels are really her emotions, or if his own are simply consuming him; making it impossible to discern where his starts and hers begin. but, he likes teetering on that line; his urges uncontrollable, and even now he doesn't realize how much he wants his lips on hers.
the way she tightens around his fingers makes him feel a natural rise of heat. he feels it in his breath, and the way he draws his mouth so closely against her skin. he breathes right against her ear, as if perpetuating exactly how much he needed her. almost as if he's begging her.
her reactions are enthralling. it's almost as if she knows exactly how to incite his appetite— from the way she draws in a breath to the way her back arches. when she meets him in another kiss, he returns with equal fervor. his tongue swirling against hers as his half-lidded eyes looks down at her throat, eagerly watching to see if she swallows every bit of his spit down. his fingers enter in and out of her with a quickened pace as his thumb rubs up against her clit with each motion. he can barely make out her words between their heated exchange, and only when he pulls his lips away does he speak: ] Deeper... Is it here? [ his fingers are obviously teasing her, even stopping just shy of reaching the places she likes the most. ] Or here? Your Highness is so picky. [ sudden roleplaying aside,
his eyes do seem to twinkle with a bit of surprise at her following words. but, he does release something between a pained huff and a laugh. ] Oh, so you think I can wait that long? [ he says this, even while they both know he'd give into her every whim. ]
( she thinks of him, only him — but the man before her is blurring, like an image out of focus from time to time. in a heartbeat, she catches the briefest glimpse of a mirror image of him, pearls and jewels on his cheeks and tears in his eyes. in another moment, another rafayel, clad in garments and inscriptions she doesn't understand.
she blinks, and he's back again. artist, painter, lemurian. an impossible, beautiful creature who is as mysterious as he is passionate, and she can't shake the feeling that she's known him for much, much longer than their first meeting. and she can't shake the awareness that he's holding himself back, just a little.
but then it all melts away in the haze of pleasure he brings her, his skillful fingers rubbing against her sensitive clit as she swallows his spit, chasing after him again and seeking more. it's erotic, tasting him on her tongue, craving him with every breath she takes. a string of saliva keeps them bound, just for a few moments, but she's swept up in his words, in the memories that ripple, unbidden, like a disturbance in a lake.
in another life, she hears him say the same thing, your highness, and she winces at the memory of a black flame and endless golden sands, except instead of sadness, her rafayel's eyes are warm, kind, and full of desire. her chest throbs, painful, and her hand comes to rest over her rafayel's heart, feeling the heat of their bond flutter and come alive. )
Here, ah —
( no, she's grinding down on him to distract herself, slick and slippery from all his teasing. but with the last of her self control, she pulls away from him and firmly tucks him back inside of his pants. it's torture, but it'll be worth it. probably. )
The beach is just outside. ( she tells him, clipped and raw from questioning her own life choices. ) C'mon, let's go. It'll be worth it, I promise.
[ as they exchange kiss after kiss in a heady, intoxicating state, he's long forgotten her suggestion the second it leaves her lips. her presence was much like the single drop of water in a very full cup; where a single sigh from her lips were enough to break the surface tension and cause everything to overflow. his emotions are all over the place, caught between the past and present. one thing is for sure and it's that the present gradually overtakes all his thoughts.
his heartbeat is erratic, and he can barely catch his own breath, as he tilts his head slightly, angling it just perfectly for his teeth graze her lower lip. her touch is so feathery soft against his chest and yet it rises and falls almost exaggeratedly, as if showing how much effort he exerts in just staying semi-lucid.
his wrist suddenly stops as he feels her warmth pull away from him. his fingers still glistening with her essence, he draws it up towards his own lips for a moment. letting it settle on the tip of his tongue, before he draws it back towards where she puts his own arousal away.
she can probably almost hear the way he's holding back just by his voice. ] But, you were enjoying yourself so much. [ (spoiler: so was he, and this absolutely sounds like a complaint) still, he does release a soft sigh as he grabs her thighs and lifts her up in his arms. ]
You know I can't say no to you... [ laughs...
it's honestly, a little uncomfortable with how aroused he is, but he supposed this was the benefit of living on your own artificial island. at least there wouldn't be prying eyes. though, he can't deny loving this adventurous part of her. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
but maybe tonight will be a good start. tonight, she can reach for him and he'll be there. )
i like when you're a good fishie for me
i'll be very gentle. what are we practicing first?
no subject
[ regardless of if it's true or not, the important part was the next part. ]
oh so you want me to tell you step by step huh?
i think you should come over first
its a very hands on experience
[ listen, fish are naturally thirsty. ]
no subject
well i could show u first then u let me know if im right
also brb ill be a little late sorry
( she won't be replying until the doorbell rings and she turns up 15 minutes late, carrying a bottle of special wine and looking very pleased with herself. she'd gotten distracted on her way here, and had been compelled to follow the trail to an old school winery that sold pomegranate wine — she just had to have it, sorry, raf. )
Hey.
no subject
or so he's fuss about, but in reality between him organizing the seafood that's been delivered at his home in bulk for them to enjoy. crabs, scallops, claims, fresh fish, and even one or two fish that remain in a decorative bowl. he looks down at them, talking to them out loud, even as she enters. ]
Should I file a complaint? Already 15 minutes late... any later and our stomachs will collapse into themselves and we'll starve. [ dramatics, per usual. obviously loud enough for her to hear through the door, even as he acts "surprised" when he opens it. ]
Oh, I had thought you forgot the way here since it's been a while.
[ despite his "complaint," he does seem to be welcoming her in by moving slightly out of the way of the door. all the more when his eyes... fall on the wine. ]
no subject
( she asks him light-heartedly, admiring the wide array of seafood that he'd been grumbling to, because of course he'd pour his heart out to them, right? still, she holds up the wine she's been holding, because life and fate is funny like that, showing off the bottle to him, hundreds of years on. )
I caught a whiff of this when I was on the way to you. Can you believe that this place has been around for a few hundred years? I was told that their winery's a small family business, and that it pairs quite well with seafood. ( she's admiring the label, then turns back to him expectantly. ) Bold choice, huh?
no subject
still, he does seem to settle down in the sense that he doesn't push this color narrative he's crafted any further. lets his metaphors die out on the tip of his tongue to make way for the wine, in which she describes emphatically. his lips curve into a small, almost subdued smile. as if it has all the makings of nostalgia, and maybe something else. ]
Are you sure you're here for me and not the seafood? [ thanks for the raf memes.
but, the wine probably would do a decent pairing in more ways than one. it reminds him a lot of a wine couples may share on their weddings night, and it makes him think of the dress and veil is probably keeps in the closet, ready for valentines day or any other holiday to surprise her with. for now, it remains there. ] Buuuut, since you started this bold, it makes me wonder how you'll finish this.
no subject
she tilts her head briefly, before she steps forward and musters a small smile, wanting to breach the distance, and uncover one of his many, many secrets. she sets the wine on the table so that she can be all up in his personal space, delicate and exploring. )
Does it count if it's both you and the seafood? ( a gentle tease, before she reaches up to cup his cheek. ) We'll finish this with a bath, and your favorite candles and bath salts. And maybe I'll warm you better than your bathwater.
no subject
just like that she places the wine on the counter, and she comes in close. he can feel her warmth upon proximity and just like that, he leans into her touch. he gingerly places his hand on the back of hers, nuzzling his cheek into her palms. ] You really have no restraint.
[ he says even when his hand seamlessly slides over her wrist. tenderly, he places a chaste kiss on her fingertips. ]
It is about bath time, you're right. And here I thought I was supposed to be your reminder. [ ... ] But, you didn't forget about practicing that other thing did you?
no subject
but he's back, leaning into her touch. he's so very, very pretty, otherworldly, so fitting of what he truly is. the petal-soft press of his lips is a tease, and she smiles, intent on teasing him. )
What other thing?
no subject
even when he knows he should pull back...
he doesn't. ] Holding onto me. You said you'd be gentle. [ he says as he draws closer, letting his breath brush against her lips. slow and steady as he remains impossibly near to her. ] Y'know, your memory really is bad. [ or so he says, but his lips touch hers.
it was brief, genuinely an innocent tap, but it's all that takes for him to lean in and kiss her for real. but it doesn't stop the tips of his ears from heating up. ]
no subject
he kisses her, and it's magical. she's not usually subscribed to fairytales, but the softness of his lips, the warmth of his words feels like the sea under a cloudless day. her hand comes to curl in the back of his head, toying with his hair. his comment on her memory makes her smile, bittersweet. he's not wrong; and it's why she grasps for every chance, every little opportunity to imprint his presence in her life. the plushies, the notes she painstakingly makes about what he likes and dislikes, every ticket to every event they've gone to. all the things they make together.
she huffs a soft laugh, her other hand coming to rest on his waist when she presses flush to him, feeling the heat of his body on hers. she's gently nudging him back into the sofa, coming to straddle him. )
I want to remember you. ( she murmurs against his lips, chasing the taste of him. it's a confession that is soul-deep, touching on a yearning that goes beyond this life. she's forgotten, she knows. and he knows more than he lets on. )
no subject
he wonders if he would always be curious like this; always wanting more. these are brief, transitory thoughts that flit in and out of his mind, but in reality when their lips touch like this, he wonders if any of that truly mattered. wasn't it enough that she was here now? while she's gentle, he feels his weight being displaced as the sofa hits the back of his knees, and so he falls. like a carefully laid trap, his back hits the sofa. he watches as she settles on top of him.
... his bodyguard really had no restraint in moments like these.
his hand naturally comes to grip the back of her thighs. he looks at her briefly, before he presses his lips against hers again. this time a touch more urgent, his hand coming behind her to pull her close so he could taste her further.
it really is a confession, and it shows from the way his chest rises and falls, or how loud his heartbeat rings in his own head. he wonders if she can hear it too. feel it too. ] Wooow, don't you think you're a little late?
[ he ghosts another kiss on the side of her lips, then her chin, and then he looks back to her. ] So? What should I do to make sure Miss Forgetful doesn't forget anymore? [ also... was straddling him gentle? he isn't sure about that, but he lets it go this time. ]
no subject
it's easy enough, all it takes is a little bow, and a shift to capture his lips with hers, parting her own to invite him to explore, her tongue slipping against his gently, as if to soothe that urgency, to show him that she's here. unbeknownst to her, the special, engraved spot on her chest glows red, pulsing and calling to its mate.
her eyes are lidded, and rafayel is all that she sees, front and center. she massages his scalp, and in this moment she reaches behind her to pull the zipper of her dress down, letting it loosen over her lithe frame, slipping down to reveal the lace of her bra, the extent of fair skin, the more pronounced valley of her breasts.
she looks down at him and grabs his chin so that he will meet her eyes, she's a touch uncertain, but still determined. rolling her hips on him, giving him a warm grind, she murmurs. )
Kiss me. And not on the lips. Make your mark.
no subject
familiar, unfamiliar— forgotten, remembered. everything seems to mix together to create a cacophony of bubbling emotions.
her body is like an art piece, so much so that when he reaches out he's almost surprised by how warm to the touch it is. as it should be. she was here and as much his bride as ever. it shows in the kisses they exchange, or the way in which she moves her hips on his lower body.
he lets out a soft moan, subdued if just for him breathing in intensely. ] You... [ she really knew how to lure him in.
was this supposed to be a lesson for her, or him?
his voice seems to drop a little lower and a bit huskier. ] I'm not someone who takes advantage of others, but there are exceptions. [ he breathes against her neck. ] Don't forget, you asked for this. [ he leans into her chest, his face rubbing against her chest for a moment. his fingers curling around her back, unhooking her bra. he does it before he even realizes he does, but he doesn't show any signs of remorse.
the tips of his fingers trace over her breasts, following the natural curves of her body. he leaves a trail of kisses from the center of her chest to right over where her bond glows. rafayel sucks on her skin, letting his tongue press against it as if savoring every inch. he creates one mark, then another... leaving several more in his wake. ]
no subject
her emotions are inexplicably intensified, a shimmer of memory that sharpens her longing. the spirit of the bride shifts, and she looks down to see the glow of her own chest, her heart beating for him. she is his, she knows; and even if rafayel rarely breathes a word of it, she understands deep down in her soul that she has always belonged to him.
the touch of his fingers, his lips, they burn and set her alight in her longing for him. and oh, oh, the velvet pitch and that husky voice makes her shiver, pleasure going right down south in a heartbeat and making her squirm. what a crime it is that he can do this to her, make her want. the moan she makes when his hungry lips find the swell of her full, plump breasts is heartfelt, dusky pink nipples peaking when her bra falls away and kiss-bruise blossom on her fair, fair skin.
she's pressing up against him, chasing his attention as her fingers card through his hair, her hips bearing down on him to rub up against the bulge of his cock through his pants, shared heat driving her wild. she laughs softly, cupping her own breast and showing off for him, thumbing over her peaking nipple in gentle invitation. she will never forget the way that gaze sweeps over her, how he takes her in like she's a work of art; which is ridiculous because the masterpiece is seated right under her. )
Mmhmm... don't you want a taste of this, too?
( and goodness, her free hand is not idle, deftly unzipping him from his confines to reach in, fingers curling around his length. )
no subject
the kisses he leaves on her body are proof of that bond. the waiting, the longing. it all feels worth it in this moment. when her fingers comb through his hair, and her body grinding down on his length, it's enough stimulation to make him lose his mind. he isn't sure what kind of sounds he makes, but he can feel his chest pounding and the collective warmth they share leaves his skin slightly moist with sweat.
when she puts her own body on full display like this, her breasts are tender and soft under his touch and when she touches them, he feels himself his pants become even tighter. his tongue takes to this invitation as it swirls around her exposed nipple, his teeth lightly nipping, before his eyes look back up to her. he speaks even with his busied mouth. ]
Are you feeding me? [ he says it with a small huff, and despite his attempt at a joke, there's a certain intensity to it. ] Then, I'll have this one first, but also... I can't forget about the other one, either. [ he speaks quiet, low, as if they were sharing a secret reserved just for them.
rafayel continues to suck on her pert bud with fervor, his tongue flicking over them as his other hands draws to give her other breast equal attention; his fingers rolling over her nipples, and gently pinching. when she unzips him, it's both a relief, but also... bold enough to get an almost strained sound from him. the anticipation is already driving him wild, and he nearly has to restrain himself from pushing her down and getting on top of her.
no, he had to be sure to savor her this time. ]
no subject
the kisses he leaves on her body burns, her heart thudding fiercely with every touch of his lips. their bodies slot together like they've always belonged, and kiyomi can't help a swell of love for him, of fierce affection and protectiveness. she can't help a soft laugh at that question, eyes bright and focused only on him, her cheeks pink with warm embarrassment and determination both.
the slick heat of his tongue, the suction he applies on her nipple makes her gasp and cling to him further, pressing forward in an eager bid for more, pulling taut and jutting proudly, begging for his attention. it's shameful, how she responds to him so swiftly, and she presses soft kisses to his forehead, stroking him from root to tip, her thumb tracing tentatively along his shaft to toy with the sensitive slit, pressing in lightly. )
They don't have milk in them — hnnn — don't be too disappointed...
no subject
his hands still travel over her body, they feel her with certain heat that he feels he can no longer control. while his emotions may have one been as steady as the tides, his passion now burns hotter than the flames he possesses. but, almost opposite to his haste to have her, is definitely the component of him taking his time in tasting her. he still holds her breasts, squeezing them just enough for him to angle them better in his mouth, enough for his slick tongue to envelop them in their velvety softness.
until he's almost thrown off by her words—
jk, when he pulls away, there's a string of saliva still attached to his lips, and he almost seems out of it. ]
Are you sure? I feel like I'm getting close. Maybe I have to try a little harder. [ a joke...
even in the midst of this. but, he's also having a hard time when she's touching him like that. it's embarrassingly obvious, especially when his tip is already glistening with the sign of his obvious arousal. it coats that thumb of hers which keeps rubbing him.
in spite that, he moves his hand from her chest to her hips, to her legs. his palms begin to massage her upper thighs, as they travel higher and closer to her core. his brows furrow just slightly, almost as if he were deliberating on what to taste next. but with the way his fingers are moving, it might be clear what that might be... ]
no subject
and his eyes, oh, his eyes... she's sure her own are just as dilated, but she's entirely focused on him. kiyomi knows where he's reaching to, her own affection for him deep as the sea, her love and desire knowing no bounds. perhaps she's still that girl that he saved from the sea, that girl that sealed their vow with a kiss and bound her to him, all those lives ago. theirs is a complicated, primal love, and perhaps rafayel is wise to be afraid of her, and yet —
— yet, she wants him with all of her heart. and his own. she shifts to urge him out of his pants and briefs, then grabs a hold of his hand to guide him closer, closer, underneath the flimsy lace of her panties to where her soft, pink pussy is already wet and yearning, clenching around nothing. )
Maybe one day. ( she breathes, her own breath hitching before she rolls her hips down on his fingers. ) You can tear it up, if you want.
no subject
her body is much like a canvas in which his hands travel and pay reverence to. displaying each bit of devotion to his craft, his thumb rubs up against the lace of her panties, feeling the wetness between her legs. when he hears her words, he doesn't think twice before he pulls at the lace, which by all accounts is more delicate a material than he expects. he hopes he hasn't ruined them, and there's a small sound from the back of his throat when he does. is it his own way of showing his remorse, or is it actually that he's letting her know that there could be more that he could be sorry for? ] Oops.
[ but, the way his eyes lingers on her every curve and seems to fall between her thighs, in which he settles himself against...
is he really that sorry? still, he likes the way she comes down on his fingers. his index and middle flinger slip in with relative ease, he curves them upwards, rubbing against her inner walls, feeling the way she naturally clenches against them. just the pure imagination of it all is enough to drive him crazy. ]
But, what do you want? Are my fingers enough? [ his voice is low when he speaks. measured between his words. not because he's being particularly careful with them, but because it takes all his concentration just to get them out. it's hard when she's so alluring. ] Do you want them deeper?
no subject
his hands are warm, searching, setting every sense alight as he explores. there are scars from endless fights and long-forgotten memories, so many of them faded into the canvas; but others can still be felt, and she can't help a surge of self-consciousness whenever his touch brushes them. still, she buries it, distracted by the way he tears up the lace. )
Raf —
( the chide is half-hearted at best, breathless and filled with longing, her gaze hungry and lidded. she gasps, squeezing tight and tensing when she feels those elegant, beautiful fingers push inside of her slippery-slick cunt. she grips him tightly, as if she's been afforded something she's long been craving, and she shivers, leaning down with flushed cheeks, her other hand curling in his hair.
she slips her hand down, down, unzipping and freeing him from the confines of his pants, and is suddenly reminded of that time he'd been in heat, how he'd craved touch, and she nudges her nose against his so she can claim his lips to kiss him, heated and wanting. )
No. They're not enough. Oh — ( she's nearly slurring against his lips, enthralled by his skill. ) Please... deeper. You're so close — ( then, a soft little smile. )
Give me both, tonight. Do you — do you need to be in the tub...?
no subject
the way she tightens around his fingers makes him feel a natural rise of heat. he feels it in his breath, and the way he draws his mouth so closely against her skin. he breathes right against her ear, as if perpetuating exactly how much he needed her. almost as if he's begging her.
her reactions are enthralling. it's almost as if she knows exactly how to incite his appetite— from the way she draws in a breath to the way her back arches. when she meets him in another kiss, he returns with equal fervor. his tongue swirling against hers as his half-lidded eyes looks down at her throat, eagerly watching to see if she swallows every bit of his spit down. his fingers enter in and out of her with a quickened pace as his thumb rubs up against her clit with each motion. he can barely make out her words between their heated exchange, and only when he pulls his lips away does he speak: ] Deeper... Is it here? [ his fingers are obviously teasing her, even stopping just shy of reaching the places she likes the most. ] Or here? Your Highness is so picky. [ sudden roleplaying aside,
his eyes do seem to twinkle with a bit of surprise at her following words. but, he does release something between a pained huff and a laugh. ] Oh, so you think I can wait that long? [ he says this, even while they both know he'd give into her every whim. ]
The tub might be kinda...
no subject
she blinks, and he's back again. artist, painter, lemurian. an impossible, beautiful creature who is as mysterious as he is passionate, and she can't shake the feeling that she's known him for much, much longer than their first meeting. and she can't shake the awareness that he's holding himself back, just a little.
but then it all melts away in the haze of pleasure he brings her, his skillful fingers rubbing against her sensitive clit as she swallows his spit, chasing after him again and seeking more. it's erotic, tasting him on her tongue, craving him with every breath she takes. a string of saliva keeps them bound, just for a few moments, but she's swept up in his words, in the memories that ripple, unbidden, like a disturbance in a lake.
in another life, she hears him say the same thing, your highness, and she winces at the memory of a black flame and endless golden sands, except instead of sadness, her rafayel's eyes are warm, kind, and full of desire. her chest throbs, painful, and her hand comes to rest over her rafayel's heart, feeling the heat of their bond flutter and come alive. )
Here, ah —
( no, she's grinding down on him to distract herself, slick and slippery from all his teasing. but with the last of her self control, she pulls away from him and firmly tucks him back inside of his pants. it's torture, but it'll be worth it. probably. )
The beach is just outside. ( she tells him, clipped and raw from questioning her own life choices. ) C'mon, let's go. It'll be worth it, I promise.
no subject
his heartbeat is erratic, and he can barely catch his own breath, as he tilts his head slightly, angling it just perfectly for his teeth graze her lower lip. her touch is so feathery soft against his chest and yet it rises and falls almost exaggeratedly, as if showing how much effort he exerts in just staying semi-lucid.
his wrist suddenly stops as he feels her warmth pull away from him. his fingers still glistening with her essence, he draws it up towards his own lips for a moment. letting it settle on the tip of his tongue, before he draws it back towards where she puts his own arousal away.
she can probably almost hear the way he's holding back just by his voice. ] But, you were enjoying yourself so much. [ (spoiler: so was he, and this absolutely sounds like a complaint) still, he does release a soft sigh as he grabs her thighs and lifts her up in his arms. ]
You know I can't say no to you... [ laughs...
it's honestly, a little uncomfortable with how aroused he is, but he supposed this was the benefit of living on your own artificial island. at least there wouldn't be prying eyes. though, he can't deny loving this adventurous part of her. ]