[ It's smooth and quite nearly flawless, the way that she turns their positions entirely around. Is it her skill or her grip in his hair that has him laughing, face flushed, hard against her beneath the surface of the water? He wouldn't really be able to answer that question if it were posed to him right now, but the answer is 'both, of course.' ]
And what if it doesn't? What if I'm just second fiddle to your prowess?
[ She moves his face so that she has better access to his neck and Loki groans, hands at her waist and gripping firmly. ]
I can think of worse things to be, surely.
[ Another groan and his eyes shut against the influx of sensory experiences between her, her teeth, and the water. ]
I dream about it sometimes. Lamentis. [ In his dreams, he's not drunk, and she's there with him. ] I wanted you then too, but I was too sad.
[ Gods, having him pliant and pinned, the way he groans and grips at her-- all of it floods her with pleasure and arousal and pride in a way that leaves her almost light headed. Perhaps her desire for control is a problem. Perhaps she doesn't give a damn.
His little comments make her smile against his skin, her nails dancing back down his neck, over the sparce hair on his chest, and down the muscles of over his stomach and then back up again, and only pause when he mentions how he had felt.
Sylvie sits back then, frowning a bit as she cups his face again, holding his head still as her eyes roam his features. ]
[ The question and the pivoting attention are both unexpected, somehow, though in the next moment Loki thinks that perhaps he should have known better and expected it anyway. ]
Sometimes, [ he answers honestly, quietly, because it's strange. Being here, being human, knowing he'll never see his family again most likely. That his mother's voice is relegated entirely to memory and nothing else. ] Not right now.
[ He's torn beneath her scrutiny. Part of him, the part that is quick to suffer, to cry, to want to crawl beneath blankets and not emerge for entire days at a time wants nothing more than to be seen. Acknowledged.
The rest of him would like to have sex with Sylvie, right now, very badly, thank you ]
[ She repeats, eyebrows furrowed, watching him for any sign of a lie. Being sad sometimes, that she can accept, can understand. Accept for him, of course. Herself? That pain and sadness she keeps wedged so deeply that it's almost a black hole at this point. There's no releasing that bomb out into the world without destroying herself in the process.
She'll take 'not right now' though, as reason to kiss him again. It's softer this time, less teeth and and more meaning, one that transitions back to passion after a few soft breaks as she shifts as to trap his erection between them and grind up against him softly. ]
I want to make keep you this way.
[ Spoken against his lips, Sylvie lets her hands drift again, tucking hair back out of his face, easing down his shoulders, finding where his hands rested on her waist and encouraging them to help set the pressure and rhythm of her movements. ]
Here...with me...like this. In the present... and not sad.
No, [ he murmurs, reiterating. He's not sad, now, naked and wanting beneath her. Cannot imagine a world in which it would be true, and perhaps that is just the limits of his own imagination at work, but here they are.
He is in awe, mostly. Of her. Obviously.
For Sylvie to say that she means to keep him this way implies she means to keep him. That this is more than a once and never again sort of event. Perhaps it is a thin sort of promise; perhaps he'd be better served just asking. But she's kissing him, first gentle and now not, and grinding against him, and he's not asking her a blessed thing. He's too busy guiding her hips over his, increasing the friction and the pressure but not the pace, to cause her to draw out a hiss and a curse as she moves along his body. ]
I wouldn't stop you. [ Earnest. Honest. ] I like the idea of being kept by you. [ A nip at her bottom lip, another groan as she slides downward. No one is surprised by his admission, certainly. ]
I think [ She drawls out, her lips now a pleasant shade of red from his kisses and little bites, her breath coming in a little heavier as the sounds he makes hit her stomach and makes it flutter. It's really hard to tell which she likes more, the way he submits to her, the way he looks at her like she's a diety, or the way his cock feels slick and hot and heavy between them as she moves across it. ] that you just like to the idea of being kept.
[ This is taking longer already than She's used to, her desire to enjoy this moment warring with her wanting to speed up, wanting to fit him inside her already. To bring them both to that peak.
Sylvie sits back a bit and reaches between them to grasp the length of him, the water sloshing up against the ceramic as she gives him a few lazy experimental strokes. He's thick and long and heavy, but nothing she cant handle, and a teasing grin stretches her lips as she bobs her eyebrows at him. ]
I'm going to fuck you now Loki. Unless you have any objections.
Perhaps, [ he purrs out, but there's laughter beneath that, a grin of his own to match hers. Yes, he likes the idea of being kept. It doesn't take long of knowing him in particular ways to figure this out, but also, he knows that he is very different from Sylvie in that regard.
She does not want to be kept. She can barely tolerate his admiration at times.
He also knows he's a difficult sort of creature to try and keep. Clearly. Much in the same way that she is a difficult creature to admire. Much in the same way they are both difficult to be close to in any lasting way, for different reasons, to the same end.
But Sylvie is touching him and he's not focused on his strong desire to be kept; it's losing out against his constant and powerful desire to be touched, admired, seen. Fucking, and being fucked, if he's being honest. So he breathes, swallows hard, nods. ]
I have no objections. I would, in fact, say please.
I would like that. [ It's breathy, almost as though she's recognizing only in that moment how much she likes hearing it come from his mouth. ] To hear you say it.
[ Impatience wins over though, heart pounding in her ears and her stomach in knots just over the sheer desire for him-- she's never felt like this with anyone before. A want for release? yes. The desire for a body? Absolutely. But nothing quite like the way every cell in her body throbs at the idea of finally being able to have him.
Sylvie shifts, bracing herself with one arm on the tub's lip as she slides the head of his cock through her slick folds-- the water doesn't help with lubrication really but she's so ready for him that it doesn't quite matter-- and then slowly fits him inside. He's big, and it's been god even knows how long for her, her new body fluttering already as she pauses a moment, eyes closed and lips parted as she just lets herself adjust, trying not to be already overwhelmed by sensation.
She may not be anything near inexperienced, but this was definitely a first, being on edge just from this.
A little wiggle comes next, and she breathes out his name as she presses down slowly but firmly until she's taken as much of him as she can. The arm on the tub moves to press into his chest, nails digging in just slightly as she moves on him once, and then again, and then again with a little whimper of delight. ]
[ One hand has settled at her side, long fingers curving around the shape of her waist, the swell leading to her hips; the other traces a path from her waist, across her abdomen, brushing against a nipple, upward across her clavicle and further upward still in order to cradle the side of her face as she moves. To go from the warm wetness of the bath to the warm wetness of her body hadn't been abrupt, but it had been quite a pleasant shock to his system, and Loki has to breathe through it as she settles and then moves.
The hand at her waist makes its way across her skin to cup one side of her ass as he leans forward to kiss her on the next downward motion. ]
Please, [ he says again, voice rough with the control it takes not to lose himself in her almost embarrassingly quickly. He licks at her lips in one moment, drawing the bottom in between his teeth in the next. ]Please, [ and he brings his hips up this time to meet her as she moves. ]
The way he says that word, the way his voice grates and vibrates up his throat, it leaves her feeling a bit lightheaded from the flash of pleasure it brings. It doesn't help of course, his shifting to kiss her, the change in angle it causes, the way he feels moving inside of her. She's always been good at seeking out her orgasm quick and easy, but this was like trying to hold back a freight train. His hands moving and grasping at her is like tinder on the fire, and she whines into his mouth as he leans in to kiss her. Sylvie wants this to last, wants to drag out every pleasant tingle and burn to the highest arc. She's wanted this too long to let it end too quickly.
His hips snap up into hers, punctured with that word, and she whimpers in his mouth in response, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as she moves with him. His nips and licks are met with her own as she finds a rhythm, nails digging into his back as she rides him with abandon. ]
[ He never promised he'd be fair. She said she'd like it. Did she not expect he would indulge her in whatever way he could?
As she whimpers he smiles against her lips, against her teeth, breathing in and out as she sets their pace. Loki groans, kisses and teeth straying from her mouth, brushing against her cheekbones, down along the edge of her jaw, to the side of her throat where he worries a small mark into the skin where her neck and her shoulder meet. He kisses the bruise after it blooms, traveling back to her mouth, arms shifting to hold her closer to him. ]
Sylvie.[ Her name is a prayer, a blessing, on his lips as they move together. The water around them sloshes, bubbles falling over the edge of the bathtub onto the tile. ]
[ The way he pulls her closer forces her to release him with one arm, grasping the side of the tub again to maintain some leverage as they move. It forces her to move slower than she'd like, the way that the water sloshes around them and destabilizes her movements; but in a way its better, she can focus on the feeling of his mouth on her neck, the way he marks her makes her want to mark him in return--though with more teeth.
That'd have to wait though, because he's groaning out her name and she's feeling herself spiral, short breathy sounds escaping her as she finds herself too far gone for real words as she chases that high with him. Sylvie digs her nails hard into his shoulder, crunching her eyes tights as she reaches for him, that magic they shared and touched back in the carriage. The thing that only they shared. That live wire that makes the air around them faintly grow green when she touches it, just bringing every touch, every pull of his body in hers, every brush against her nerves, up a thousand fold. It just felt so goddamn good- ]
Oh Fuck Loki!
[ She tumbles over the edge then with a breaking squeak at the end of his name- giving up on holding on to the tub to cling to him. It's strong enough to white out her vision, hard enough to leave the world swirling around them. ]
[ Loki had every intention of outlasting Sylvie in this.
Not, it should be noted, because of any conscious decision-making on his part. It was more of a confluence of several true things. That it has not been as long for him as it has been for Sylvie had a lot to do with it, alongside a constant desire to wear a sexual partner into the mattress, so to speak.
And yet. When she touches their shared root of magic it overwhelms him, in the best way, sends him scrambling for control of his senses as the illusion of the same flowers from the carriage burst forth on the tiled floor beneath the bathtub and climb the furniture, the walls, the ceiling in rapid succession. She clings and cries out and he keeps moving, breathing against her skin, holding back his own climax with a rapidly fraying control. ]
That is what we're doing. [ Laughter. A nip against her skin. ]
[ It's absolutely breathless, still riding the waves of her orgasm as she shifts to help him, to draw them out, not at all satisfied with what she's gotten so far. It feels so good, this connection they have. Terrifying and overwhelming and delicious, better than any lay she's had in the stolen moments she's been able to satisfy her need all these years. Sylvie grips his shoulder with one hand and the tub again with the other to focus on him now, on bringing him to his peak as well. After that? Well. ]
I hope you don't have any plans for the rest of the day. Because I'm not planning on going back tonight anymore.
[ He had wanted faffing, and honestly that's about all she can think of now. Taking him apart as many times as she can and letting him do the same. ]
My schedule is... [ A groan. If he thought he had a difficult time riding out her orgasm at the beginning, her chasing the edges of it and fucking him through it — as that is definitely what is happening here — will definitely be his undoing. ]Blessedly open.
[ He kisses her then, pulling her bottom lip between his teeth with a grin and another groan. The illusionary flowers burst into blossom, wither, die, are reborn again in little flares of green and gold magic as his hips snap upward without any sense of rhythm or pattern, merely rising to meet her as swiftly as possible with every thrust. When his control finally snaps it's very sudden; his hands at her waist tighten and he's left gasping and cursing against her mouth as each small flower bursts into a shower of sparks around them. ]
[ The kiss pulls a little sound out of her as he starts to lose rhythm, the pulse of their intertwined magic leaving sparks behind her eyes-- ones she quickly realizes is also still filling the room as she opens them again. It's beautiful, the flowers curling through their lifecycles, and she's half distracted by the actual artistry of the illusion when his hands tighten around her waist. And then all she can pay attention to is the way he comes apart under her, the way his mouth moves against hers as he whimpers out those curses. The flex of his muscles in his arms and shoulders and back as she holds him close again, swallowing his words with desperate kisses; she can feel his pleasure in echoes through their magic, and she holds him tight as the flowers burst into flecks of light around them. ]
Loki... [ Her arms slowly loosen after a moment, her skin prickling with goosepimples from the cold air and the delicious floating buzz of their release-- backed by that still humming connection. ] Holy...shit.
[ He brushes some of her hair back from her forehead with a shaky hand, taking large, deep breaths to try and come down from the intensity of it all. He loves her; it doesn't exist as a question or a possibility to him, it just. Is. It burns in him like a fire, sometimes raging, sometimes as quiet as a candle's flame, but nevertheless there. ]
Pretty good, yeah? [ He laughs, and kisses her again. Softly. Like he has all the time in the world. ]
[ It's breathless as she settles her arms a bit more over his shoulders, her entire front pressing up lazily against his as she tries to settle more into the water with him, craving the warmth of both his skin and the bath. ]
I think I'd need a few more rounds to really be sure.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
And what if it doesn't? What if I'm just second fiddle to your prowess?
[ She moves his face so that she has better access to his neck and Loki groans, hands at her waist and gripping firmly. ]
I can think of worse things to be, surely.
[ Another groan and his eyes shut against the influx of sensory experiences between her, her teeth, and the water. ]
I dream about it sometimes. Lamentis. [ In his dreams, he's not drunk, and she's there with him. ] I wanted you then too, but I was too sad.
no subject
His little comments make her smile against his skin, her nails dancing back down his neck, over the sparce hair on his chest, and down the muscles of over his stomach and then back up again, and only pause when he mentions how he had felt.
Sylvie sits back then, frowning a bit as she cups his face again, holding his head still as her eyes roam his features. ]
Are you still sad?
no subject
Sometimes, [ he answers honestly, quietly, because it's strange. Being here, being human, knowing he'll never see his family again most likely. That his mother's voice is relegated entirely to memory and nothing else. ] Not right now.
[ He's torn beneath her scrutiny. Part of him, the part that is quick to suffer, to cry, to want to crawl beneath blankets and not emerge for entire days at a time wants nothing more than to be seen. Acknowledged.
The rest of him would like to have sex with Sylvie, right now, very badly, thank you ]
no subject
[ She repeats, eyebrows furrowed, watching him for any sign of a lie. Being sad sometimes, that she can accept, can understand. Accept for him, of course. Herself? That pain and sadness she keeps wedged so deeply that it's almost a black hole at this point. There's no releasing that bomb out into the world without destroying herself in the process.
She'll take 'not right now' though, as reason to kiss him again. It's softer this time, less teeth and and more meaning, one that transitions back to passion after a few soft breaks as she shifts as to trap his erection between them and grind up against him softly. ]
I want to make keep you this way.
[ Spoken against his lips, Sylvie lets her hands drift again, tucking hair back out of his face, easing down his shoulders, finding where his hands rested on her waist and encouraging them to help set the pressure and rhythm of her movements. ]
Here...with me...like this. In the present... and not sad.
no subject
He is in awe, mostly. Of her. Obviously.
For Sylvie to say that she means to keep him this way implies she means to keep him. That this is more than a once and never again sort of event. Perhaps it is a thin sort of promise; perhaps he'd be better served just asking. But she's kissing him, first gentle and now not, and grinding against him, and he's not asking her a blessed thing. He's too busy guiding her hips over his, increasing the friction and the pressure but not the pace, to cause her to draw out a hiss and a curse as she moves along his body. ]
I wouldn't stop you. [ Earnest. Honest. ] I like the idea of being kept by you. [ A nip at her bottom lip, another groan as she slides downward. No one is surprised by his admission, certainly. ]
no subject
[ This is taking longer already than She's used to, her desire to enjoy this moment warring with her wanting to speed up, wanting to fit him inside her already. To bring them both to that peak.
Sylvie sits back a bit and reaches between them to grasp the length of him, the water sloshing up against the ceramic as she gives him a few lazy experimental strokes. He's thick and long and heavy, but nothing she cant handle, and a teasing grin stretches her lips as she bobs her eyebrows at him. ]
I'm going to fuck you now Loki. Unless you have any objections.
no subject
She does not want to be kept. She can barely tolerate his admiration at times.
He also knows he's a difficult sort of creature to try and keep. Clearly. Much in the same way that she is a difficult creature to admire. Much in the same way they are both difficult to be close to in any lasting way, for different reasons, to the same end.
But Sylvie is touching him and he's not focused on his strong desire to be kept; it's losing out against his constant and powerful desire to be touched, admired, seen. Fucking, and being fucked, if he's being honest. So he breathes, swallows hard, nods. ]
I have no objections. I would, in fact, say please.
no subject
[ Impatience wins over though, heart pounding in her ears and her stomach in knots just over the sheer desire for him-- she's never felt like this with anyone before. A want for release? yes. The desire for a body? Absolutely. But nothing quite like the way every cell in her body throbs at the idea of finally being able to have him.
Sylvie shifts, bracing herself with one arm on the tub's lip as she slides the head of his cock through her slick folds-- the water doesn't help with lubrication really but she's so ready for him that it doesn't quite matter-- and then slowly fits him inside. He's big, and it's been god even knows how long for her, her new body fluttering already as she pauses a moment, eyes closed and lips parted as she just lets herself adjust, trying not to be already overwhelmed by sensation.
She may not be anything near inexperienced, but this was definitely a first, being on edge just from this.
A little wiggle comes next, and she breathes out his name as she presses down slowly but firmly until she's taken as much of him as she can. The arm on the tub moves to press into his chest, nails digging in just slightly as she moves on him once, and then again, and then again with a little whimper of delight. ]
Loki-
no subject
The hand at her waist makes its way across her skin to cup one side of her ass as he leans forward to kiss her on the next downward motion. ]
Please, [ he says again, voice rough with the control it takes not to lose himself in her almost embarrassingly quickly. He licks at her lips in one moment, drawing the bottom in between his teeth in the next. ] Please, [ and he brings his hips up this time to meet her as she moves. ]
no subject
The way he says that word, the way his voice grates and vibrates up his throat, it leaves her feeling a bit lightheaded from the flash of pleasure it brings. It doesn't help of course, his shifting to kiss her, the change in angle it causes, the way he feels moving inside of her. She's always been good at seeking out her orgasm quick and easy, but this was like trying to hold back a freight train. His hands moving and grasping at her is like tinder on the fire, and she whines into his mouth as he leans in to kiss her. Sylvie wants this to last, wants to drag out every pleasant tingle and burn to the highest arc. She's wanted this too long to let it end too quickly.
His hips snap up into hers, punctured with that word, and she whimpers in his mouth in response, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as she moves with him. His nips and licks are met with her own as she finds a rhythm, nails digging into his back as she rides him with abandon. ]
no subject
As she whimpers he smiles against her lips, against her teeth, breathing in and out as she sets their pace. Loki groans, kisses and teeth straying from her mouth, brushing against her cheekbones, down along the edge of her jaw, to the side of her throat where he worries a small mark into the skin where her neck and her shoulder meet. He kisses the bruise after it blooms, traveling back to her mouth, arms shifting to hold her closer to him. ]
Sylvie. [ Her name is a prayer, a blessing, on his lips as they move together. The water around them sloshes, bubbles falling over the edge of the bathtub onto the tile. ]
no subject
That'd have to wait though, because he's groaning out her name and she's feeling herself spiral, short breathy sounds escaping her as she finds herself too far gone for real words as she chases that high with him. Sylvie digs her nails hard into his shoulder, crunching her eyes tights as she reaches for him, that magic they shared and touched back in the carriage. The thing that only they shared. That live wire that makes the air around them faintly grow green when she touches it, just bringing every touch, every pull of his body in hers, every brush against her nerves, up a thousand fold. It just felt so goddamn good- ]
Oh Fuck Loki!
[ She tumbles over the edge then with a breaking squeak at the end of his name- giving up on holding on to the tub to cling to him. It's strong enough to white out her vision, hard enough to leave the world swirling around them. ]
no subject
Not, it should be noted, because of any conscious decision-making on his part. It was more of a confluence of several true things. That it has not been as long for him as it has been for Sylvie had a lot to do with it, alongside a constant desire to wear a sexual partner into the mattress, so to speak.
And yet. When she touches their shared root of magic it overwhelms him, in the best way, sends him scrambling for control of his senses as the illusion of the same flowers from the carriage burst forth on the tiled floor beneath the bathtub and climb the furniture, the walls, the ceiling in rapid succession. She clings and cries out and he keeps moving, breathing against her skin, holding back his own climax with a rapidly fraying control. ]
That is what we're doing. [ Laughter. A nip against her skin. ]
no subject
[ It's absolutely breathless, still riding the waves of her orgasm as she shifts to help him, to draw them out, not at all satisfied with what she's gotten so far. It feels so good, this connection they have. Terrifying and overwhelming and delicious, better than any lay she's had in the stolen moments she's been able to satisfy her need all these years. Sylvie grips his shoulder with one hand and the tub again with the other to focus on him now, on bringing him to his peak as well. After that? Well. ]
I hope you don't have any plans for the rest of the day. Because I'm not planning on going back tonight anymore.
[ He had wanted faffing, and honestly that's about all she can think of now. Taking him apart as many times as she can and letting him do the same. ]
no subject
[ He kisses her then, pulling her bottom lip between his teeth with a grin and another groan. The illusionary flowers burst into blossom, wither, die, are reborn again in little flares of green and gold magic as his hips snap upward without any sense of rhythm or pattern, merely rising to meet her as swiftly as possible with every thrust. When his control finally snaps it's very sudden; his hands at her waist tighten and he's left gasping and cursing against her mouth as each small flower bursts into a shower of sparks around them. ]
no subject
[ The kiss pulls a little sound out of her as he starts to lose rhythm, the pulse of their intertwined magic leaving sparks behind her eyes-- ones she quickly realizes is also still filling the room as she opens them again. It's beautiful, the flowers curling through their lifecycles, and she's half distracted by the actual artistry of the illusion when his hands tighten around her waist. And then all she can pay attention to is the way he comes apart under her, the way his mouth moves against hers as he whimpers out those curses. The flex of his muscles in his arms and shoulders and back as she holds him close again, swallowing his words with desperate kisses; she can feel his pleasure in echoes through their magic, and she holds him tight as the flowers burst into flecks of light around them. ]
Loki... [ Her arms slowly loosen after a moment, her skin prickling with goosepimples from the cold air and the delicious floating buzz of their release-- backed by that still humming connection. ] Holy...shit.
no subject
[ He brushes some of her hair back from her forehead with a shaky hand, taking large, deep breaths to try and come down from the intensity of it all. He loves her; it doesn't exist as a question or a possibility to him, it just. Is. It burns in him like a fire, sometimes raging, sometimes as quiet as a candle's flame, but nevertheless there. ]
Pretty good, yeah? [ He laughs, and kisses her again. Softly. Like he has all the time in the world. ]
no subject
[ It's breathless as she settles her arms a bit more over his shoulders, her entire front pressing up lazily against his as she tries to settle more into the water with him, craving the warmth of both his skin and the bath. ]
I think I'd need a few more rounds to really be sure.