constellationprize | [imeeji] INBOX

Well, I think... um, since he isn't here, it's better for us to wait for him, isn't it...?

Or do you want to do it now?

Either way is fine for me.

[ because it's going to suck either way ]

But, when it comes to Avenger - I'm going to be marrying him.

Oh - that's good... I'm glad . . .

[ a pause, ]

... Then let's wait for Whisky, okay? We're already married, and we've traded rings now too, so when we see him again -

[ and to minimize instances of The Problem,

but it occurs to her that a wait like that might make him nervous too, so she gives his hand a squeeze, drawing closer ]

- We can do the ceremony again, together... okay?

[ sssqueeze, a little relieved despite himself ]

Mmmm. Alright.

[ with a pause, and he moves to give her a hug ]

[ she gives him a firm, gentle squeeze in return, and with the distance between them closed,

it's still stiff - nowhere near the same amount of anxiety as the other day, but not as free of it as she'd likely hope - but she leans to kiss him, lightly, chaste ]

[ chu

kissing her back just as chaste, and then after a moment, drawing back

. . .

exhale ]

[ turning 500000000x redder ]

[ . . . ]

... Let's sit on the bed, okay...?

[ tugging him in that direction a bit still hanging close, some color rising to her own face too ]

Mm, sure . . .

[ following, sitting himself down ]

[ as they settle down she leans close again, holding onto one of his hands . . .

and pauses, thoughtful, lips stalled a hair's breadth from the corner of his mouth ]

... Is this okay...? Do you want to...?

It's fine. .... Do you want to?

Mm, well...

... After before, and with the way we usually do it... I wanted to try doing something for you this time, but if you don't want to right now, then that's okay too...

We can stay like this too, right?

. . . Well . . .

I'm fine either way, so . . .

. . . What is this something?

Edited 2020-01-16 04:29 (UTC)

[ there's a thoughtful pause,

And she presses her lips to his throat, just beneath his jaw, her free hand shifting to brush against his chest, just lightly ]

. . . You'll make sure to tell me to stop if you don't like it, right...?

[ stops, his breath stopping too - then, he exhales with the next words, his head tilting to the side to offer his neck to her ]

. . . Yes, I will.

Then - like we said before, I'll be attacking relentlessly, okay . . . ?

[ but there's nervousness lingering in her heart, still, a stiffness that betrays it, in her fingers, in her mouth. shutting her eyes she inhales heavy through her nose, enough to shift her shoulders, and breathes him in, deeply - pressed to him she luxuriates in that familiar scent, his warmth against her, the full, comforting reality of his identity; she could sink herself into it entirely, she thinks, let all impurities and weight sink to the bottom and drift away on the current like sediment, push them to the backmost corners of herself, just forget everything.

they have to. She has to. She wants to. There's no reason for her to keep feeling this way, not when it harms him, not when there's nothing behind it to begin with.

her lips trail further down, dotting kisses along to his collar, firmer and more boldly as she suppresses what nerves remain, her hand working now to fumble at opening his top ]

[ his hands lift up, to - if not yielding to her movement - work into her hair, stroking it and petting her head gently ]

. . . Mmm, alright . . .

[ with a pause, ]

Dia-san.

[ hums a questioning noise against his collarbone, lingering there in case he'd prefer them to stop - and just because he's petting her, honestly. but she's listening more or less still, her fingertips brushing absently against a nipple ]

Ah -

[ flushed, ]

I just wanted to say your name.

[ while he keeps his hands steady, his breathing even ]

[ thank you for remembering the header change eventually I will too,

Either way her reply is whispered breathlessly and muffled against him, he can almost feel the sound better than he can hear the words, ]

... I love you.

[ it's heartening to hear and his voice and the hands in her hair feel alongside everything else altogether so sweet, he is so charming and cute and handsome that she can - truly could, if she were to think about it - feel her fear melt beneath the force of his warmth. She can't help but want to

Coax out an even greater reaction, certainly, but just to please him too, to assuage his worries too - about her, about the weddings, about himself, about this place - each stemming from that same bare, earnest affection like branches on a tree, grown hardy and healthy on the fullness of her heart.

She moves deliberately slow along his collarbone to feel it out against her lips, to savor the familiar shape before she finds a spot beneath, low enough that any of his clothes would comfortably hide it, and pulls it into her mouth, sucking at the skin as she rubs at his nipple with greater intent, rolling it gently between her index and thumb ]

[ i got u boo

honestly some part of him is - not quite unnerved, but nervous, and it's only held back by the concern he has for his wife; after all, she must be pushing herself like this. ]

I love -

[ there's a pause as she moves; the touch is pleasant, and his voice comes out in a sigh, ]

. . . Mmm, I love you, t . . . ah -

[ - as her fingers rub at the sensitive flesh, his own hands in her hair stalling only briefly before returning to petting her hair, albeit slower, more shaky now ]

[ she carries on like that for a good while until she's certain a mark has settled in, shifting then lower as she kneads at his breast gently, firm, with her full hand (clammy despite herself, vaguely, a sheen of sweat having formed unseen thanks to her hair); as she carries on in kissing at him, breath hitching hot against his skin each moment she lets up, she lets the tip of her tongue ghost over each tattoo, each scar at his chest with an almost reverent affection, the attention she gives to each one is so focused -

she knows them all by heart, she's sure, the commitment as natural as breathing. even simpler she's just hoped for some time to spoil him like this, to lavish each inch of him with affection, and she hopes - to focus herself upon that, upon the warmth and softness of his breast, on the comfort of his hand at her head,

but - as much as the tremble in his fingers would have her hope so, as encouraging as it is to have that guide so close - is she doing this right? even as her thoughts begin to melt into that urge to please, she can't help wondering. weight shifting against him, she lifts a knee to settle it down between his legs, tugging the hand she's holding to bring him closer, onto her lap ]

Edited 2020-01-18 22:55 (UTC)

[ he'll never get used to being paid such attention, physically - to be touched so intimately is always a pleasure with his loved ones but the attention, that her undivided attention is on his body, is one that has him fluster easily, gut twisting already with want - but beyond that, getting used to her boldness is an impossibility. somewhat shocked by the knee between his legs - punctuated by a sharp breath and a mumble - he finds himself moving as she likes him to, using his hand around her head as a brace to scoot onto her, before flushing in indignity -

distantly, he realizes that must be the true nature of his shame. somewhere down the line he had forgotten he was not just someone to be looked up to, not just a guide for the girl in front of him, but rather the woman's lover; to provide is his natural state of mind but such is her state, too, and the immediate mental resistance is a symptom of his unintended contempt: she was not fit to be liable for anyone's care or happiness, in the incomplete state that she is in, and that worked fine for his own purposes, as someone who neither needed nor wanted the provisions of someone else in the first place, but while that remains to be an opinion he holds true, he's startled to realize that such a mentality would be carried into their personal lives, and most urgently, into the bed.

were there a further purpose, a higher goal to be met with apologizing to her now, he'd do so - or at least consider it after she'd finished with what she had in mind - but as it stands, it's far too early to apologize for condescending her when she wouldn't understand in the first place. only, he should endeavor to carefully watch himself, so that he might not fall into such a pit again - similar to raising a child, he should not blind himself to avoid seeing when she would evolve, when she would grow. in the first place, isn't that what he wants for her most?

- come to think of it, isn't this a step in that direction? if she is to become a provider, beyond being a witch or being a human, then isn't her boldness here, especially in the face of her fear, something to praise?

no, no. no, no, no. that she would disregard her own self for another is against the point - that's the opposite of commendable, though not quite damnable.

but, she had wanted to. moreover, he'd been clear, he thinks, that he was fine either way - and that she would initiate even so must be some indication in and of itself, right? then - if it's by her choice that she should disregard herself, isn't it commendable?

he walks through the dizzying circles of logic as he, himself, becomes dizzy, cheeks flushed and warmth spreading down to the tip of his toes, his own breath short and steady and yet, despite himself, palpable in its excitement, and he squeezes her hand gently, shifting a little closer, legs spread to press himself against hers - there's an indistinct not-quite-right-but-not-quite-wrongness at his loins, a missing part that he could only vaguely feel is out of place, the organ more a bane than a welcome piece of his body's makeup as it is, and at the moment its strangeness can only manifest in distant surprise and reminder that the brunt of his heat was re-allocated from the outside to the in - and he thinks on how he's uncertain that she would not do this to anyone else - in and of itself, not the problem, but more concerning, that she would do it by another's choice is most unsettling - and he considers, while steadying his hand and barely-studying her face with half-lidded eyes and a slack jaw, how he should tell her so that she would better understand, that it isn't that he would rather she not touch anyone else but him and whisky-san and maybe avenger, but that she should have it be by her own want and need that she does,

or maybe it would be easier if he spun it as jealousy, but he's loathe to do it when it isn't true, at least in the day and in the less-than-darkest parts of the night,

and she is, so, very warm, and he remembers that wretched dream of his that has him swallow, throat dry before his notice, yet - he hasn't yet managed to resolve that, whether he found it pleasant or unpleasant beyond the implications. still, he's quite certain she must feel some level of disgust, or at least some level of unrest, and that thought is the only barrier between his kissing her lips besides the very air itself, instead a soft mumble escaping through his teeth ]

[ he can see it, of course.

in the look at her full face as their positions shift and change, one fact alone is clear as day - there is a tint to her face, certainly, a bright crimson against her usual pallor, but there's something lacking in its depth, in the vibrancy that would otherwise be there - with whisky, with him any amount of time prior to the incident, an anxious sweat beaded finely at her furrowed brow. it'd be wrong to say that she isn't excited at all, so uneven as the puffs of air at his breast have grown, but the color could just as well be caused by any other type of heat for all the enthusiasm manages to reach her face, fully clothed still as she is, collar high at her neck, hair loose and heavy.

but she doesn't have a single bit of consideration to spare to her own comfort; her own pleasure even less so. gaze unfocused, mouth giving each scar its due diligence as she encroaches upon his nipple, teasing kisses at the areola around the flesh - she does not once meet his eyes. as much as she would insist upon doing so before, gently voice her preference for positions that left him or whisky in plain view, indulge in each shifting expression and gaze as if they were tantamount to their touch, commit them to precious memory, she does not once meet his eyes. breaking her focus even once - inviting that panic back into her heart, even potentially - is nothing she'd ever hope to do but especially not when it's a matter of calming his worries, of making her affection stand out stark and plain against each of them, of avoiding further misses like the other night, of going back to normal.

she allows herself this lone thought: to stop at this point - on any reason other than his own desire - would be nothing short of selfish.

and so, she keeps herself centered on the comfort of his scent (grounds herself in his identity) and the feel of his hands (comforts herself in his wakefulness), squeezing at his hand in turn, divining her speed and movement from the feeling atop her head as that freed hand drifts from his breast to his hip, rocking him gently against the smooth, cool nylons at her knee as she takes his nipple into her mouth, tongue lapping at the nub ]

Edited (this is the last edit I promise. english is too hard. ) 2020-01-20 00:25 (UTC)

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nsfw

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