bakabaka | i ain't fake cuz my money aint

i ain't fake cuz my money aint

[ When Mythra had told him that she wanted him to be their servant, both she and Pyra hand't expected him to go so above and beyond what they imagined.

He leads her to a slightly secluded but safe place within the forest, an area that has the sweet and sensual mix of candlewax burning and natural lilacs blooming, all bathed in the sultry waning light of the afternoon... He must have thought this through, he must have planned for something like this, planned to impress her and make her experience as his "master", so to speak, as good as it should be.

(Mythra might be still disgruntled that he doesn't feel too bad about his punishment of serving them, but right now she's just as silent.)

She takes a few steps into the clearing, spotting the plush mat and pillows that lies in the center, the few sheets there as well. A massage, she had asked for. One with hot stones and bamboo. She doubts he knows how to use either or that he's found any, but that he's put together this much is...

Actually just a little flattering, flattering enough to cause her cheeks to color little more, a dryness occurring in her mouth. Her body aches already, just anticipating that the energy within will be soothed with a massage soon. (He'd do this for any woman, she has to remind herself.) She swallows, composing herself before turning to him with a smile. ] Oh, Tristan. It's lovely.

[ She turns once more from him, walking towards the mat as her hands link behind her back. ] You really are an astounding knight.

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[ If he’s nervous about this whole thing, he’s keeping everything carefully hidden away behind an enigmatic smile. This is his punishment, after all, and he’s…totally enjoying every minute of it. Sorry. He’s utterly amused when she speaks his name, looking up just as he’d popped the cork of one vial, the scent of lavender mingled with the peculiar timbre of her voice seeming to reach up and cup at his face. ]

Yes?—oh.

[ His eyes flutter open in surprise as her clothes seem to explode into glitter, fading away into the afternoon sunlight peering down at them from beneath the thick canopy of trees. In some ways, he feels a little miffed, as if she’d done it deliberately to tease—naughty girl, depriving him of the chance of taking them off himself.

But perhaps that’s the point. Perhaps there’s more to this little game, and he’s only just beginning to learn its rules. ]

Pyra, really.

[ His laughter is soft, chiding, as he reaches for that sheet to pull it away. How can he even get this stuff all over her—his hands all over her—if she chooses to cover herself up after that pretty little trick? ]

You wish to be treated to every possible luxury within my power, do you not?

[ He lets his fingers dip under that blanket to trail across her spine, his voice lowering a few octaves as he adds: ]

If so, you must surrender yourself utterly.

[ The serum the he uncorks is strong enough to tickle her senses from where she lies, but it’s not overpowering enough to leave her dazed by the scent. It’s subtle enough to intermingle with the aroma of the flowers that surround them, only adding to the effect.

What’s not subtle is how his hands quickly, deftly slip beneath the sheet and find their place upon her skin, his fingers trailing along the curve of her back, the ridges of her spine. She had known it was coming; but it doesn’t stop the initial tenseness from the contact. Never has she had someone place their hands upon her so swiftly, much less like this...

Below the facade of skin and soft cover of flesh there’s nothing but energy and light, and it’s already reacting to his touch. Normally she gives away energy, and it’s naturally quite sensitive to others, always seeking to mingle with more. Her ether lines remain dormant for now, but she feels the the matrix within already begin to shift, to trail after his fingertips as if they were a magnet upon her skin, the power waiting for an opportunity to truly connect. He himself may feel a prickle travel up his arms as he touches her, one that adapts to his mana. And as for her own... It’s beginning to grow warmer for her.

It’s been far too long since she’s made a connection with others, with the last time occurring during a battle. This is a nice change of pace, different, more intimate a different formula for how the energy peaks and troughs upon their plane, and one that she finds herself suddenly eager to follow. She hadn’t quite realized what she’s been missing until now.

—No, that’s a lie. She’s always wanted to experience touch like this. She’s always wanted to feel cared for, to know what it’s like, to pretend that she might have something like this. ]

Ah.... no “Master Pyra”? [ She corrects playfully, bringing up her arms over the pillow she rests upon to make herself more comfortable, finally relaxing further. She’s good at keeping up airs for their little ~~role play~~ arrangement. ]

Putting on airs now, are we?

[ His fingers trail up her spine, up the back of her neck, brushing against the rosy strands of her hair. He does feel that odd tingling, such as what he feels when his master had first summoned him up out of the ether of history, the mark of their mutual contract burned into the back of the young magus’s hand. There is an intimacy here that extends beyond the bounds of their flesh, bringing him back to the memory of that other time they’d synchronized, as he and Nero and Wuxian had gone caroling at her doorstep that winter’s eve.

But even that moment feels so far away. And even Pyra herself feels so distant to him, even as she invites him to draw ever closer—even if some part of him feels as a moth being drawn toward a flame. There is danger here; there is something crackling electric in the air. There is something here that neither of them can deny.

He withdraws his hand, finally oiling up his fingers, letting the floral scents envelop around them, mingling with burning candlelight and lush forest loam. And as though talking to only himself, he continues, in a voice that’s just above a murmur: ]

But after all, is it not a master’s job to put her servant in his place?

[ Lying prone as she is, she can still absolutely do just that. He finally leans in, however, blotting out the spots of sunlight dappling the cushions as his hands press into her back, kneading and searching, seeking out her most weak and vulnerable places. ]

[ She exhales as his hands leave her, feeling a rapid coolness descend in the spots where his fingers had once been. But she won't be without for long, as now his hands are back upon her skin...

Putting a servant in their place... with something like this? She feels as if it's exactly the opposite, that he's slowly beginning to unwind her, that all the knots in the energy and power within her are becoming undone, and she hadn't known they were tangled in the first place. The pressure from his fingers, lathered in rich, aromatic oils, extends beyond her skin into that matrix, kneading into an amalgam of plasma-light. ] Th-then... more. [ She commands.

It makes her more sensitive, as if something is being released, stretching from her, her awareness keen enough that she can feel the shade from him as he leans over, the slight warmth as he is closer, his breaths, his murmur. He'll certainly find those spots along her body... And in his shade, in the waning light, in any prolonged touch, he will begin to see a pattern of light stretch across her skin, the threads blinking as she first begins, but then soon becoming more prominent and sustained in their light, should he continue to press along their paths, to work her body.

These lines are actually all over her body, all connected, even if he might not see them all just yet. But she can feel them begin to awaken through the rest of her limbs. He presses in one spot, and she feels energy shiver along their paths of her side to elsewhere; he massages over another place, and she feels warmth trace slowly down her thigh as if it where his fingers themselves traveling, her lower half tensing as the feeling leaves her, a knee pressing into the mat.

She's oddly quiet, lying there, as if she's holding her breath just seeing where his hands might go next, or, perhaps, holding back a breath because of what it might sound like. But when he does find that weak spot, that spot where it seems there is a more sluggish stream of light along those lines, when he kneads into it-- she can't help the pitched intake of air, the sudden tension of her muscles along her back, her hands gripping the pillow below her tightly... and then the airy, slow, staggered gasp that escapes her, the spike in heat that she both feels all throughout her and gives off to him.

Indeed, a golden glow will begin to envelop them both of them, connecting them, and he'll taste the trailing end of that feeling tied into that energy she had unwittingly just released as it unwinds: warm in a way that can only be want. ]

[ Those lines seem as though they are guiding his hands, signaling to him where he might touch next. The temptation to run his fingers across the glowing marks, to see what new response he might elicit from her, does make his movements a touch more frantic, a touch more firm as if he’s trying to imprint every part of her being to his memory.

Indeed, he wonders if he might forget something like this anytime soon. ]

Ah—

[ That glowing sunburst of sensation catches him by the heart and makes it beat all the faster. How easy it is to become intimate with her, he thinks—wonders, even. What manner of person must she really be? He only understands that she is like a Servant, and yet not, but no weapon should feel quite so…good in one’s hands, should it?

He eases up on his massaging for the time being, his movements slowing down, palms and fingers pressing languidly into her skin, until she gleams with oil and light both, and in the most enticing way at that. ]

Pyra…

[ Her name rolls out of his tongue like a sigh, and he wonders where that sudden burst of energy had come from—her or Mythra or both? Is this something he should even be considering? Because now it’s clear that they both want things to go a little further than a massage—indeed, even his motives for setting up such an elaborate display as this was meant to play to her desires in that regard.

He hadn’t expected to be so successful so quickly, though. ]

Pyra…why did you not tell me?

[ He feels a flush to his cheeks now as he says it, but there’s a smile underneath that too. A small, soft little thing that promises much. ]

I would have obliged you gladly.

[ It’s too late to block the affinity link that connects them via this sort golden light, giving away what she feels more acutely than any tremble or tension her body could convey. He’ll know— no, he knows when he’ll hit a specifically sensual spot, he’ll know when he wins such reactions from her, even if she should do the best to hide them... because he’ll feel them for himself. Heat, pleasure, and any pain that comes with it: it will be shared with him, and if he is open to it, he might indulge in that same sensation, that for every stroke or press into her, it will be as if he pleasures himself.

“One in body and soul”, Addam had once said, when she had been his weapon and he her wielder. And a connection like this certainly attests to that.

She was a fool to agree to this, she should have known that given how much she trusts him already, this link would easily develop. This is dangerous, because he’s too close, because she knows that she shouldn’t, that this isn’t for her, because she knows if they continue she’ll only grow more fond of him, conflating physical and emotional feelings together. She’s confused as well, because her heart has already developed feeling for others in Chroma, unrequited as well. She feels wretched, she feels as if she’s dishonoring Iseult.

But she also wants.

She won’t answer him directly, honestly, because the real reasons would certainly dampen the mood. Instead... ]

Why... why are you stopping? [ She finds her voice once more, a whisper as if she’s unsatisfied, managing to add some indignant stubbornness into it. ] You’ve only just started.

[ The frustration in her voice and the sensations he’s felt from that newly forged link between them tell him very different things, though they both speak of the same thing. The same yearning.

He can feel the slick heat of her skin, its perfume like lavender and still something more wildly exotic and yet familiar. It’s definitely familiar—like something he’d thought long lost. Like revisiting a memory of one’s first love. It is just as well that the forest has ripped away his memory of Iseult’s appearance. In her stead is Pyra, her eyes pleading, and he feels a deep ache in his breast.

With an agony he pulls his hands away from her, missing her warmth, missing the link that bound them together. He knows he shouldn’t continue any further, but he has always been a slave to women and a slave to his own passions. And, he realizes with a pang, that he craves this connection between them, for in its own way, that affinity link feels tastes smells like that love potion he’d imbibed so many years ago. Perhaps there is a whiff of lavender there, warmed with a maiden’s touch. Perhaps there is the briny tang of the salt-sea air.

Perhaps there is that sense of longing, deep within her, that he cannot quite ignore. ]

Pyra…I know that I cannot satisfy you. Not in this way.

[ Already, he’s unfastening his cloak, but instead of throwing it over her shoulders to allow her some modesty, he tosses it aside, beyond their candlelit campsite, his breastplate following. ]

So please wait only a moment longer.

[ Bereft of his touch, the physical connection that makes the link ever stronger, her eyes open slowly, taking in the flowers, the forest, the candles right in front of her. They really are out in the open, and while she does feel a faint sense of embarrassment at the thought anyone might stumble into their little session, she feels colder without his hands on her body.

This is happening, and knowing that it is happening, she wonders how it will play out-- how far they will go. Perhaps she should remain facing away from him so that he can imagine she is Iseult instead-- as a courtesy to him for indulging in this very selfish whim of hers. She knows of his story, she knows that he belongs to someone else even if they're dead, but here she is taking advantage of him for her own--... yearning. And it is that, she can't deny it, a yearning begotten from loneliness, where imagination and her own hand is not enough, where her human form craves another's touch.

And where he own hands wish to explore him as well. ]

Still keeping me waiting?

[ She won't look at him as he undresses, but she'll hear the rustle of cloth and the timbre of armor as it's put aside. Just knowing that he'll return to her, she's growing impatient, teasing herself by trying to guess where his hands might be placed first once he does. Her back? Her waist? Her thighs? His hands had felt so good over the lines of her body, just about anywhere he resumes will stir the energy once more. And, yes, the lines do paint down to between her legs as well. ]

You know how to tease.

[ As far as he’s concerned, they might as well be the only two people in the world. It had been that way when he’d first laid eyes on Iseult after imbibing her love potion. It had been that great and powerful sensation that would later propel him into genuine love—would have him forsake everything to be by her side, just as he is now forsaking his own clothing.

He’d only managed to bear himself to the waist, however, his scar in full view as well as his own impatience—each second that they are apart is an agony, and one he cannot bear for a moment longer. ]

You are in no hurry, are you?

[ Why would she be, when they might as well be the only two people here? It is almost as if her focus might shift elsewhere if he doesn’t hurry, and he can’t have that. But he leans over her again, this time choosing to brush her hair aside, to get her to peek—to look at him. ]

But why turn your lovely face from me, Pyra? Do you find me so distasteful?

[ His fingers correct the looser strands of her hair, getting her to do just as he wanted. She shifts slightly at first, just a glace, just stealing a moment to look, but once she does she finds she can't resume facing away. There is his scar again, a easy reminder of what he has been through, of love lost, and guilt crosses her expression. But not even such a scar makes him any less attractive, her eyes sweeping over his chest up to him, feeling her blush deepen the longer she looks. It's not as if she hasn't someone's bare chest before, but that he's specifically stripped just for her is... Well, no one else would do this for her, she's sure. Servant or otherwise.

His touch is the catalyst that overpowers her guilt, and finally turns more, bearing herself more fully towards him, propping herself upon an elbow. In the end, it seems that she's no different from humans in this regard, longing and curiosity mixed into one to have this. ] No... No, never. You are...

[ Her hand reaches out so that her fingers might follow where her eyes had first laid, sweeping over his chest just to the side of the scar, upward, brushing over his collarbone-- ] beautiful [ --his neck, and then curling a finger through one of the longer strands of his hair, then letting the lock fall back to his shoulder. ] and wonderful.

[ And especially gracious, for indulging her like this, when that scar is a good reminder of who she is with. Her hand finds the side of his cheek, even as she rises to sit up more, sheet falling from her back, chest bared to him. There's no hiding the heat she's given from her body, the arousal as she leans it, taking in the scent of lavender from his own touch, his presence. She finds she could easily kiss every inch of his skin that she's touched so far, his chest, his scar, his neck... and more. She wants to kiss him, she wants to pull him closer, she wants to feel his chest pressed against hers, slick and hot and sweaty as they move. ] This scar is... [ A mark of his past. ] I was only thinking that... if you would like to imagine me as someone else, I will not be offended.

[ She says this smiling of course. Really, it's okay! If he wants to imagine that he's bedding Iseult instead! She is happy enough to simply be with him. ~~girl has no self-worth~~ ]

[ He catches her wrist as it moves up his cheek, smiling serenely all the while, feeling that surge of affection for her welling up within him. He feels as though he might even burst. Here she is now, bared to him and wanting, splayed across the cushions, candlelight dancing across her skin. It’s everything he could dream of. It’s nothing like he’ll be able to dream of again.

But then she drops that last line, and he can feel his heart tightening as he pulls her hand away to lean closer and wrap his arms about her weight and pull her closer. He cracks his eyes open as well, the deep golds of them boring into those glowing marks that seem to burn as from an inner fire. And he sighs. ]

Ah…how sad…

[ He touches his forehead to hers, brow creased with worry, lust forgotten for the moment in favor of something much deeper. ]

Why should I think of anyone else, Master, when it is you that I desire? Have I not proven it after all?

[ His hand about her waist, pulling her body toward him, causes her to adjust further. The small of her back arcs into his touch, her chest presses to him, her leg moving to allow him room to be over her, bending slightly between his at the knee, her lips just a hair-breadth’s apart from his as his forehead taps against hers.

Ah, how sad.

Not the sexiest thing to say right now, but what does that matter when his touch itself rekindles that flame all over again. Master... she’s never been called that before. She’s never had someone tell her that she is the one they desire, that she is the only one they will think about— at least for this.

Architect, she wants this. She wants to pretend she can have this, that for at least one short evening, she is someone’s, that that someone cares for her like this, and he is hers.... ]

[ Her eyes flutter shut, then open to see his golden eyes, the sincerity, the affection— all misplaced in her, she’s sure, she’s sorry, but he’s beautiful, every part of him is, he’s warm, he’s heat, he is that heat that courses through her making her toes curl with just lying atop her like this— then shut again, breathing, her hand that had been on his shoulder going to his cheek, to his chin, tilting his face towards hers. Lips brush over his, she wonders— shouldn’t something like this be a happy occasion?

A master probably shouldn’t beg. But she can’t help but say— ] P—...please...

Kiss me.

Touch me.

[ She wants to feel, she wants to feel what it’s like to be human like this. She wants to feel as if she’s loved like this, if only for a night, and with his body along hers, with him so close, she almost can’t stand it. How long as she dreamed of something like this? Yearned for it? Pleasured herself for it? ] ...Take me.

As you wish.

[ That is all he wants to hear, really, on the matter of Iseult or any other girl she seems to think he’s mistaken her for. Because if there’s a man who knows what it’s like to be spellbound, it’s him, and therefore he can resist such enchantments better than most.

It is Pyra that he wants, her glowing warmth against him as he adjusts their position so that he might straddle her fully, might shower her with kisses from above. He feels himself burning up as their bodies are pressed flush against one another, his own heart hammering wildly in his chest as he lets a hand roam between them, to trace the glowing lines and curves which mark her body, committing them to memory. He feels the heat of her body as if it is his own, that affinity link reforged between them and he wonders—just how far can it go, really? ]

For just this moment, we are one.

[ It comes out in a murmur, his gaze upon her dark as he reaches at last to slide his fingers in between her legs, testing for just how strong the bonds, how intimate the synchronicity of beings truly is. ]

[ She finally admits what she wishes for, and he gives more than ever what she’s dreamed. Just his lips alone pepper her skin, and it doesn’t matter where he marks her with them, just the soft sensation of his attentions upon her is enough to be the first pull back into warmth and heat. If he’s close enough, she’ll give the same in return, seeking any part of him that she can taste: his neck, his shoulders, his lips if she can... carefully greedy, tasting what she can.

Then his hand finds her body, trailing along those lines again, over her breasts, down her abdomen, causing the muscles of her stomach to tighten with his touch. Energy follows the path of his fingertips, brightening, becoming more prominent, soothing; she closes her eyes as if he were still massaging her, even if all he is doing is trailing over a set path. The link between them is reformed, thin at first, then strengthened, the golden light she shared with him now encompassing them as one. Following the lines further down, their paths converge even lower still upon her body.

He speaks, a murmur that carries her and can make her shiver by the tone alone. But she’s distracted by his touches, opening her eyes just enough that she’s able to catch his more serious expression, as if he’s concentrating on something both fragile and dangerous at once.... and then she feels his fingers between her legs, touching her where she is most heated.

Her breath hitches in her throat, her hands suddenly grip him upon his back, a spike of want shooting upward from his touch to slam into her mind and then ricochet throughout the rest of her limbs, fizzling out like a firework with waning throb of pleasure. She turns her head away, she bites her bottom lip, she flushes, she shuts her eyes tightly; how can, how can she feel so much already?

And indeed the link between them sparks with that pleasure so that he will feel exactly what it is he’s doing to her himself, exactly how she feels it: an open circuit that’s meant to share her sensations with him, betraying her pleasure— the strain of that pleasure— so obviously that it’s almost pointless how she seems to be holding back a whine as if it might give her away. That link will stroke him, diving into his veins, and wash through his body. ]

[ She can be greedier still, he thinks, not for the first time since he’s met her. But he knows now that telling her as much is fruitless—what she needs is encouragement. Boldness. To feel for herself just how wonderful human greed can be when it is properly sated.

Though perhaps he’d been a little too ambitious in that regard.

He can feel their affinity link growing stronger once more, feeling how he makes her feel, feeling how she makes him feel. It’s a surreal process, similar to the telepathic link he shares with his master. But what he feels within the bond between Master and Servant feels so small, so muted in comparison to the waves upon waves of sensation buffeting him, threatening to undo him right there. A Master-Servant link now feels so bereft, so muffled, as if he’s feeling the world through a bubble.

And here…oh, he can hardly bear it! He gasps when she arches against him, the sensation likewise slamming into him like a wave crashing onto shore—no, like the ocean swallowing a ship whole, dragging it down into depths from which it can never recover. ]

Pyra—

[ Her name comes out broken as he tries to catch his breath, tries to steady himself as he retracts his hand. Had he ended their fun a little too early after all? He’d barely stopped short of, well, shooting the cannons, but at this rate, he’s not confident that he can endure yet another explosive link between them. ]

[ Because of such an open connection, it's akin to a vicious cycle: her pleasure is shared with him, and she feels his in return-- those waves, that pull into a deeper passion, the abrupt closeness he is to finishing already. She feels it for herself, and it's almost enough to push her over the edge. It doesn't, not yet, but she feels everything leading up to it: the surge, the push, the anticipation, the heat, his body clinging to hers, the sudden-- inadvertent push and grind up with her hips to his, as if she could elicit more of that feeling-- and then a softer tremble as he whispers her name.She feels that dangerous peak diminish. It leaves her unsatisfied...

....But she also feels more flush than before. Wet.

Pyra's eyes open so that she might look at him. Adjusting her other hand from his back to bring it up to his cheek, she guides his face down to hers so that she might grant him a kiss upon his bottom lip, tugging at it for a moment, withdrawing, and then returning to finish it into a proper one, as if to thank him for just that touch so far. ] Don't... [ She says between breaths of her own, chest heaving, moving, slick with perspiration, beneath his. Even that causes her to tremble; she's sensitive everywhere-- those waves are continuing to crash into her senses. ]

Don't stop... [ It's a murmur of her own, both breathless and breathing him in, and her legs shift beneath him so that she might feel him against the concavity of her hips. Her nails graze his cheek and neck, following his sides down until at last her fingers find the top of his trousers. Is there a belt that fastens them? Well, she wants those off.

Because it doesn't matter how long he might last, it really doesn't. She just wants to feel this, to feel him. There's an urgency that hadn't been there before, because what if he vanishes, what if he leaves? What if this isn't meant to last? He may be a spirit now, but he's also human...

Her mouth envelopes his once more, this time more forceful. This time, a distraction. ]

I do not intend to stop.

[ Her breath tickles, her body feels slick and tense and restless beneath him—within him. It seems he’d undone what little he’d managed of a massage session earlier on and must now redo his work entire.

And he finds that he isn’t at all opposed to the prospect in the least.

Indeed, there are belts and buckles and holsters and sundry still firmly in the way, and when she reaches for them he follows her, undoing them with one hand—the brunt of experience giving that fumbling some sort of finesse. He’d apologize if she hadn’t caught his mouth—again and again and again, as if she means to drain him of his essence. As if she means to keep him there.

As if he wouldn’t offer himself up willingly.

His belts and all else gone, he leans flush into her, boldly allowing her to feel his own desire between her legs even as he’s already earnestly stealing his breath back with their kiss, letting it slip away with a moan when she presses against him just right. Gods…but oneness might be an understatement for whatever it is they’re doing, though he’s not in such a contemplative mood when there’s a beautiful woman writhing underneath him, and he himself just as eager, and just barely managing to suppress his own burning need.

Anyway, even if he can’t show it outwardly, she can feel it well enough—the thickness of the heat, the slippery slickness of her body that makes him feel as though he can’t quite get a grip on her, the scrape of her nipples, the scent of lavender mixed with sweat mixed with something else. And him, her name fractured upon his lips as they share that prolonged kiss before he breaks it at last to press a kiss upon your jawline, murmuring— ]

Are you ready, Pyra?

[ He can feel her burning up down there, slick—slicker than the rest of her body, in fact, and he feels much the same. Yet there is perhaps one thing that even their comingled sensations cannot quite communicate, although there is a tellingly mischievous twinkle to his eyes as he asks her that question. ]

[ Beads of sweat are dotting her forehead, her neck, each movement from him eliciting another spark of pleasure. And at last the rest of the barriers between them have vanished, and her body grows even tenser when he lowers himself to her at last. An airy breath escapes her lips from the contact, the slickness, the sensitivity, the knowledge of what it means it, of what he feels, a hard need that slides between her legs, of what is about to happen. Instinctively her legs spread further for him, settling this position more-- more, more contact, more friction, more burning, more heat. He's attending her with kisses upon her jaw, with a question, and all she can feel is how it simply aches empty between her legs while he's just there but not in.

Because of their connection, she feels his need just as keenly as she feels hers, and it's made that much more difficult to endure. His desire, hers, there is but a fine line that distinguishes the two now, and she knows that in moments to come, there will be none at all.

But here he will also feel a sudden shyness. Because--.... well, as much as she's wanting, she hasn't exactly done this before. She swallows, finding her voice amidst a half-gasp, half whisper. ]

I... Y-yes. [ Her hand comes up to his shoulder, brushing his hair over it; the other, to his upper back, simply holding him for now. ]

[ He feels her ache, her longing as well, and forces himself to maintain whatever little control he has left. He can’t let this end too soon. He doesn’t want it to end too soon, not even at her pleas, her entire body crying out to him for release.

Not yet. ]

Not yet.

[ He can tell she isn’t ready yet, and tries to soothe her with a kiss down her throat, his hair falling over his shoulders, brushing against her arms and breasts as he moves about. He won’t let it come upon her suddenly, like a thief in the night. Shadowed they may be by the cover of the forest, he’d have her know her own pleasure within the full bloom of day, surrounded by light and laughter. By love.

His lips trace over the markings between her collarbones, kissing down the one that curves around the slope of a breast. In his own way he’ll set her at ease, he’ll draw out her worries, forcing himself to relax and take his time, that she might feel their intermingled sensations plateauing as well, stretching out with the sweetest slowness. ]

[ Not yet, he whispers to her, denying a sooner release, and then he proceeds to slow down...

It’s torture, feeling his mouth press kiss after kiss down her neck and over her collarbone, making his own path where the energy beneath her skin pools and flows where he travel. Where will he kiss next, where will he travel? She can’t even wonder with the pleasurable distraction he provides as he follows, allowing that warmth to build. She bites her tongue— she can feel through the connection that he wants to buffer the sensation, but this is worse.

Before, it had been only his touch trailing along those pats. But now it’s his mouth reaching her ether-lines to trace his lips upon it, and the energy seems to follow his course until it suddenly snaps. Heat shoots down those lines, making them ignite into a vibrant color beneath him; she feels pleasure along each inch of where they trace along her body, all at once. Pyra gasps— ]

T—Tristan—

[ —her head snapping back, her eyes opening as she struggles to control her reaction. He’s not directly over her; she only sees the tree branches above, the smoke that rises from the candles, the patches of sky peaking through the leaves, but she registers none of it at all. Not yet, not yet, she tells herself, but he’s going to push her over the edge if he continue with just kissing her along those paths, her body writhing in response to his, her hips swiveling upward, her leg wrapping about one of his, hot, sweaty, needy, as if clinging to him, nails digging into his back, might stabilize this sensation and let it petter out. Not yet, but— oh, would it be so terrible to have release already?

He has no such lines across his body, but through their connection he’ll be able to feel that same trace of pleasure mirrored upon his skin as if he did. ]

[ She had tried.

She had tried to ignore the the sensations that have been shared with her through a seal, she had blushed, stubborn, at feeling his touch upon her body even if she wasn’t there, she had gasped when he had felt between her legs— she had steadied herself against the tree, knees buckling, bringing a knuckle to her mouth to bite on to hold back any whine even if she is alone. She had trembled along with Pyra, she had brought her other hand up her side, her stomach, clenching it through the fabric, moving it up to grip her breast, she had panted with the stubbornness to remain in control of these sensations, these feelings—

But now she finally crumples, collapsing to her knees, breathing hard as she feels both Pyra’s and Tristan’s connection for herself. Hers and Pyra’s ether lines are identical, and wherever that pleasure flows in one, it flows in the other, arms, legs, breast, groin...

She’s— she’s not going to kid herself, this is embarrassing, being alone in her mindscape while simultaneously feeling everything, being reduced to her knees because of a pleasure she cannot resist. But it also impossibly feels like his hands, his lips are on her as well, touching her, kissing her even alone. She feels the weight of him as well, his hips flush with hers.

Is this what mindfucking is? ]

D—Dammit... Tristan...!

[ At any other time he might have considered the implications of Pyra and Mythra essentially sharing one body, but right now his only concern is to maintain his focus, to keep from losing himself to the endless buffeting of sensation that he himself is creating. Despite not being in possession of ether lines himself, he does know what it’s like to be marked somewhere sensitive. When he places a hand over the markings over her chest he can feel those selfsame sensations throbbing upon his own scar, the surge of pleasure almost painful in its intensity that he lets out a shuddering gasp in response.

And that burning pleasure surging through those ether lines—oh. Coherence will indeed be a challenge. How many more ways can he fail to think of things to compare these sensations to? This is not lovemaking as he knows it, rolling about in the hay with some village girl; nor is it anything close to the surge of power he feels whenever his master lends him their magic in battle. Whatever it is, there’s this urge that it’s going to slip away from him at any moment, just as her voice gasps his name out (did he just hear Mythra…? No, it can only be his imagination). ]

A—Almost, Pyra…

[ Her name is nigh-on dropped upon her skin in a soft murmur against a cresting nipple, feeling that sensation amplified upon his own body. Gods, the sheer possibilities of all her stripes and markings—but they are both fast approaching their limits, and he doesn’t think he can hold on much longer himself.

At last his hands roam lower, fingers pressing insistently onto her thighs—feeling them slip from the lavender oil. It takes a bit of fumbling as he shifts between her legs, feeling her want there, that unfamiliar ache intermingled with the heat between his own legs.

But—at last, he enters her with a shuddering gasp, his eyes flying wide open at this strange mingled sensation of being likewise entered, the heat of their joining causing stars to explode in his mind’s eye. ]

[ His breath tickles upon his skin whenever he pauses to catch it or to speak just above her skin, causing goosebumps to arise, burning up more and more with each passing second. She feels him adjust himself between her legs, feels the kiss of his tip just ready to enter, causing her to shiver in a way that's only hot. And feeling his own need as if it were her own-- sharing it-- how is he holding on this much, how has he managed to temper his desires to delay the inevitable with kisses upon her skin, with his hands, up until this point? She's thankful that he's taken his time, but she has to give the man credit for having such patience and knowing that prolonging and teasing out this desire makes it all the more sweeter. ] Ah--... nn...Tr--Tristan...

[ He pushes forward, slipping into fully. Perhaps it could have been more uncomfortable or painful to her, what with this being her first time, but that he receives so much pleasure from the initial entrance alone overrides any of it. Again, a vicious cycle, and one she's wholly underestimated. Pyra gasps-- perhaps, his name, perhaps, just a breath-- as she feels his heat as her own as he presses into her, seeing those stars within her own mind, that initial burst of passion taking hold of her. It's as if everything they do, no matter how little, is amplified through their connection..... He's only dipped into her once, but that and his own pleasure he's received from it, returning to her, amplifying her own--

"Too soon". "Not yet". It doesn't matter.

It pushes her over.

Her back arches, pressing her chest to him; her hand return to his shoulders, holding him, thighs parted, trembling on either side of him, hips swiveling, snapping up to meet his abruptly, slick with her passion, a leg locking upward. And for a moment her entire body grows rigid with this new, odd sensation of him being within her just as much as she feels him everywhere else. Everything feels taught, in and out, everything is on fire, white, stars, lust, and more, as ecstasy engulfs her body completely, and the energy releases from her and slams into him instead.

She feels nothing but him over her, him inside her, the press of his body, her body, quivering around him, causing her to curl her toes, to pant, to shut her eyes as if this is painful. It feels as if her body is not even her own anymore, each nerve set alight, stealing her breath so that another whine comes choked out. ] Tristan...

[ WELP, it happened just a little too early for her.... ]

[ He’s not sure himself how he’d managed to hold back for so long, only that he must. Perhaps it is his inhuman strength and stamina at play, perhaps it is something else—his penchant for stretching things out, especially agony.

Patience is a skill he’s at least retained even after death.

But right now there is only one sort of death that occupies him—the little death, la petit mort—the sensations of her own orgasms flooding into him as he feels so acutely the tightness of her sheath heh and then it’s as though the entire sum of her being enfolds him, engulfing him in a warm light and he can feel himself shatter at last, his seed spilling into her with a gasp before he even realizes what he’s doing.

There are many deaths in his life, both great and little, but petit this certainly was not. His body shudders against her, nigh-on crushing her into the pillows as he feels his control slipping at last and he gives himself to the utter oneness of their coupling. ]

Pyra…

[ Again he murmurs her name, unable to manage more than she who occupies not only his mind but the very core of his being. How long this repeated amplification of their mutual pleasure lasts he does not know—it feels like an eternity. It feels like a fleeting moment. It cannot possibly be over.

It is over too soon. ]

Forgive me.

[ He manages to find the strength in his limbs to brace himself up on his elbows and take his weight off of her, before sliding a hand over her cheek. His eyes are open, warm. Full of concern. ]

Are you hurt? I had not been prepared for such a thing as this…

[ Her mind is awash with that pleasure, her body still trembling with it as well as he releases into her, slamming down onto her, and between their connection all of that high is prolonged between them. It's a moment that she's never had with anyone else-- a moment she doesn't think she could have with anyone else. That's he's granted her this much is... more than she could ever ask for.

As the moments just after pass, as her mind returns to her and reality settles back into her senses around her.... She feels as if all the waves that had crashed into her before, the ocean that had consumed her with that want, is receding-- but only barely. She can still feel him pressed against her, and she simply.... breathes, deeply, taking him in, raising her arms to wrap around his back, easing how hard she had been clinging to him. ] N...no. No. [ She speaks with a smile, small and just a bit wry. ] I'm... not hurt, I...

[ ....But he's right, that they were not prepared. Everything between them happened just so fast. One moment he had only been pressing his hands into her skin, and within minutes it all came to an end. It was electric, it was gripping, it was one spike of want and heat and pleasure after the other, lust and passion, that just kept on building and building and building up so rapidly that neither of them were ready for it. ] Th-thank you.

[ ... ] It... this was.... [ She's catching her breath, she's breathing him in, the scent of lavender, sweat, and sex heavy on the air. Her legs feel weak, she doesn't quite want to move yet. And privately? She still feels very sensitive, even moreso, down there, as if he had simply primed her for more. ] I... didn't know our connection could be so overwhelming. [ There, that's a good word. ]

[ A part of him is tempted to shut her up with a kiss—and he may yet still act upon it, considering how she’s too exhausted to even speak coherently. For the moment, however, he pulls away, already missing the core of that heat swirling between them. When she finishes speaking at last he brushes his thumb over her cheek, smiling fondly if a bit tiredly. ]

It seems neither of us were prepared after all.

[ Then again, he’s not sure that any amount of preparation would have mattered in the face of all of that. Vaguely, he wonders if Mythra had felt it too, but then thinks better of asking.

It’s enough that they’ve had this experience at all. It’s enough that she’s shown herself at her most vulnerable, and that they’re both able to indulge in it to the extent of their limits. ]

But I must thank you as well. This experience has been…I am at a loss for words.

[ He chuckles, helplessly. ]

I have never experienced anything quite like it before.

[ She feels the energy within her flutter like butterflies in summer when he smiles like that at her. He seems so-- joyous, relieved and happy, in the afterglow of their coupling, as if this is how he is truly meant to be: to be with someone, in their arms.

...It doesn't need to be her, she realizes. He simply deserves something like this, something that can bring him this relief, pleasure, and that smile.

This is something she can see doing again, if only for him.

She closes her eyes, letting those thoughts fall from her mind as she smiles. ] I... I'm glad. I wasn't... expecting that, either. If, If I knew-- [ Her cheeks flush further.

Actually, how would she stop the affinity link from forming, if this were to happen again? Ah, well. ] This was my first time, having something like this.

Edited 2019-06-25 20:22 (UTC)

It was mine as well.

[ He leans down to press their foreheads together, feeling a surge of contentment in the simple act of staying together with her like this. Yet he also feels hollow—spent and empty, one would say, in the Buddhist way. Like he’d let go of something more than just his inhibitions.

He sighs. Ultimately, this is not something he cares to think too deeply upon. The day is still young and he still has his very important services to perform as her servant, after all, though he doubts that either of them will have the energy for another massage for a while. ]

But no matter. There will be other times.

[ And that’s a promise. ]

[ She settles into his embrace, breathing in as his forehead presses to hers. Idly, her hands move up and down his bare back, fingertips still warm. During their coupling, everything had happened so fast that she didn't get to truly feel him like this. Now that it is over, she feels as if she's finally indulging in the way that she can appreciate.

....He's a good lover, one with experience, she supposes. He had clearly intended to do more during, but it wasn't meant to be. Although at the mention of "other times"-- ] I... wouldn't mind that. [ She whispers quietly to him; she's still unused to voicing what her needs and wants her. It had literally taken his hands upon her for a goddamn massage, that connection to be formed that gave them away to him, for her to actually tell him what she had wanted.

....But perhaps this is also not the healthiest thing in the world, either. This-- it's most certainly just a means to fill how empty and lonely she feels. A fleeting, temporary distraction. A dream. But isn't it good enough? ] Ah, and if you are wondering... I cannot carry children. [ JUST. HOPING TO PUT HIS MIND AT EASE, if he's actually worried about that since they didn't use protection. Yah yah she knows he's a dead? heroic spirit but uh, just in case, she wanted to clarify it! ]

[ He can’t help a little laugh at that. Of all the things to bring up at a time like this…! ]

I only want you, Pyra.

[ And Mythra, of course, but really, there’s a reason why he’s closer to one and not the other, though he would not miss the opportunity to embrace both. ~~Anyway who knows if Heroic Spirits can get anyone pregnant the usual way~~ ~~Shut up Merlin~~ ]

[ Hey hey! This is probably something they should have considered beforehand as two adults! But it seem that she’s prone to being swept away by passions and wants just as everyone else. ....Actually she wonders if she should be offended that he seems so amused that she’s brought it up at all. Take responsibility! ]

I’m... [ She blushes further. ] I’m being serious, you know.

[ Which... sort of implies that she doesn’t believe him entirely. ]

[ He’s trying, okay!! He can’t help it if he hasn’t had to do the human thing like worry about siring more bastards!!! ]

I know. And I am telling you that you need not worry.

[ Not just for the pregnancy stuff, but…everything. But he knows that that alone won’t make him feel any better. ]

But whatever happens, you will not go through it alone.

[ She seems to settle down with that, relaxing beneath him.

But also. Where do they go from here? What even are they, together? Or is this just a one-off encounter, a tryst set within a demichrome fairy tale world, surrounded by the scent of lavender? Can she even look at him again without thinking how he has kissed her...?

Can she have this again, can she pretend that someone feels so attentive to her, affectionate, loving, without feeling guilt and sorrow for having it at all?

She should talk, instead... She takes a breath, and lets her troubles rise like the smoke of the candles around them.

I only want you, he said.

Her hands settle between his shoulder blades, pulling him down into an embrace. ] ...You have me.

For as long as we’re here [ For as long as they’re both still in Chroma. ] for as long as you want me [ Because she’ll— she’ll be okay, if he doesn’t anymore. ] I’ll be.... We’ll be yours. [ Is he starting to realize that he’s essentially going to have a mini harem... ]

[ He’d felt her want and need clearly enough through that affinity link. It will take some time to process, sure, but that’s what this world’s given them—time aplenty, and away from the troubles that plague their own lands and histories.

Even if there’s still Mythra to worry about. He flushes a little when she refers to herself in the plural, realizing that Mythra had felt that after all. And that conversations with her are likely going to be awkward. Had Mythra even consented to this? They aren’t exactly of one mind, and yet…

He feels tired. Boneless in her embrace, though he winds his arms around her still, pulling her close but taking care not to crush her underneath his weight. Even if he feels weightless himself, still buoyed by the intense heat of their earlier coupling. ]

I would not have it any other way, Pyra…Mythra. After all this…I cannot say that I can merely call myself your servant anymore.

[ Not her servant... but something else. Something— more, maybe? Something nebulously defined, that they might be able to unite again? She’s almost afraid to ask. But she likes the idea of that, and her smile seems to betray a little hope. Try as she might to tell herself that she doesn’t deserve or shouldn’t have something like this, it seems she can’t hide what’s in her heart after all they’ve shared together. ]

You’ve... always felt much more than that to me. Even to Mythra, before you met her. [ ...Perhaps in part, because, they both had someone they had fallen for and lost. And as the flames of passion cool further, yet again she wonders if this is all just a temporary balm upon the scars of their hearts.

How long have they been lying like this, with his chest upon hers, with her legs still on either side of him, with everything so sticky and slick between them? She almost wishes they could have done this in either of their homes, where it would be safe to fall asleep next to him without concern for forest-beasts to attack them. ]

And I... I think that.... [ She feels she must warn him at least, that she feels her (metaphorical) heart aching for him. ] You could become so much more to us.

[ Yeaaaaah Mythra is going to be very embarrassed the next time they meet. “Hi, so, you don’t know it, but it felt like you were fucking me even when you weren’t here.” It just seems so awkward to say!! (If she will admit it at all.) ]

[ Mythra will have her little surprise in due time. Right now, this confession is a little…it certainly makes him ache, but within his breast rather than between his legs.

If he’d still been human, perhaps… ]

That is a dangerous way to think.

[ The responsible part of him argues that he should let her go then, if he must make such a point.

He doesn’t. He hasn’t told her the full story of what it means to be a Servant, but the fact that his existence is impermanent is…definitely something he needs to emphasize one of these days. Even if it breaks her—their—hearts. ]

But…whatever we are, in this moment, I am only content to call us “together.”

[ That is a dangerous way to think.

Of course it is, she knows it is. It hurts so much already. But at least with him, she'll know that he'll never fully love her. She knows what to expect, when tangled with him. Isn't that good enough? Isn't there a term for this, friends with benefits? Besides, they're from two different worlds, they don't have time... So she should just enjoy this as it lasts.

Pyra decides to... wiggle a bit underneath him, bringing back her hand to his shoulder to gently give him a nudge, as if she could signal for him to roll off of her. ] Mm, I understand.

I wish that... your life could have a little less of danger, though. [ In anything physical or heart-related or otherwise. ]

[ He takes that cue to pull away from her at last, sitting up among the cushions as he looks out toward the forest around them.

The act of copulating is such an intimate affair…after the incredible heights they’ve reached earlier, only now is he beginning to feel that things are finally settling down, that the rest of the world has finally breached their little bubble of privacy. Sunlight continues to dapple the forest floor as the leaves shiver to a slight breeze and the sound of some unseen bird coos at them, perhaps disparagingly, perhaps not. The wind feels abnormally cool on his skin now, and he wonders if it’s the same for her—and the same for Mythra, in her paradise of the mind. ]

Love is not without its dangers, Pyra.

[ He would know, and he’ll even raise a hand to press it against his scar to make that point. ]

But that is a risk I would gladly take every time.

[ Could love ever be without its dangers? Could he have had his love all those years ago, without the tragedy?

She wishes that were the case for him, as her gaze follows his hand to his scar. His smile-- as it is now, is beautiful, but it must have been even more enchanting to behold when he would have smiled for Iseult. This man deserves to find a love like that again. She wishes that scar could only be a scar, and not a barrier that prevents him from finding it once more in all of its joy and glory.

Pyra sits up as well, still nude, still unaffected by the cool wind around her, her legs tucked beneath her. She still radiates heat, and her crystal still shines... and silently she draws nearer to him, one hand going to his thigh to support herself as she leans forward. She pauses only a moment to remove his hand from his chest. And then-- and then she dips her head, swiftly, to kiss him upon that scar, tender and slow.

She pulls away after a second or so, looking up at him. ] I promise you to make what we have together... as wonderful as possible for you.

[ The gesture catches him off-guard, and before he can protest she pulls away, leaving only the lingering feeling of warmth deep within his breast.

It is not at all unpleasant, at least.

His gaze softens to her then, as he leans in to press a kiss—not upon her crystal, but upon her forehead ~~since it’s the closest he can reach~~. ]

Really, you…

[ Always jumping the gun, this one. Always the first to do some heart-shattering thing, always the one with the ready smile, the kind heart…any other man would have fallen for her already, but even she cannot breach the barrier of his heart so easily.

He twines his fingers in hers, still slippery with lavender oil. Holds her tightly regardless. ]

Be it within the blink of an eye or the span of eternity, I will make certain that you do not regret it.

[ Her fingers linger upon his thigh as he pulls her to him, fingers curling inward as his lips press upon her forehead. That feels less like the intense passion involved in a summer tryst within the forest, surrounded my the haze of smoke and candles and the scent of lavender and lovemaking, and much more personal.

She had not meant the kiss upon his scar as a way to dispel its curse, but instead to respect what it means to him, and that-- she hopes-- she can somehow alleviate a part of its pain he carries within him to his day.

At the very least, this offers some sort of distraction to him.

...But that's a little too sentimental to say. So lightly, she responds: ]

The only thing I will regret, Tristan, ....it not having known your company sooner.

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