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Every little flutter of her lashes and relaxation of her tension beneath his touch was a reward, from seeing her tense and worried on the boat ride back to this was a relief. Iason carried on until she stopped him, smiling softly and letting her guide him down beside her. Circling his arms around her he pressed a few soft kisses to her neck before burying his face against her shoulder. They'd slept like this on the boat frequently enough, but it was different somehow here. There was nothing rocking them about, no need to cling to one another to ensure they stayed in the bunk, but more of a desire to be close.
Her legs tangling with his own and the way she fit so perfectly with him in every crook of their bodies made it easy for them to fall against one another, the wear of the day dragging him to sleep. With each rise and fall of his chest he could feel her own, his heart beating close in time with hers. Every so often he would shift, but each time he kept her close, holding her to his chest as if he was a child and she the security blanket that kept him safe. For the first time in ages he didn't dream, didn't fret, only allowed himself to relax with her in the safety of the house.
Perhaps it was foolish of him to let his guard down in such a way, but Persephone so clearly trusted Iris and Aimias, he allowed himself to partake of that sensation, if just for tonight. After all he had barely slept properly since they left Taengea, if not for her being sick or the boat rocking or his general fear and worry that she would be harmed when they returned. Now they were here and all he had to focus on was her.
With her tucked against him, he could breathe again. As dawn drew closer instead of rousing as he usually did to pace the decks, Iason slept on. The feeling of her so close awakening his body in a manner it had not since the first time they'd shared a bed. The lack of stress and fret after the night before in which they had come to agreement and understanding of one another allowing dormant desires to be awakened..
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Every little flutter of her lashes and relaxation of her tension beneath his touch was a reward, from seeing her tense and worried on the boat ride back to this was a relief. Iason carried on until she stopped him, smiling softly and letting her guide him down beside her. Circling his arms around her he pressed a few soft kisses to her neck before burying his face against her shoulder. They'd slept like this on the boat frequently enough, but it was different somehow here. There was nothing rocking them about, no need to cling to one another to ensure they stayed in the bunk, but more of a desire to be close.
Her legs tangling with his own and the way she fit so perfectly with him in every crook of their bodies made it easy for them to fall against one another, the wear of the day dragging him to sleep. With each rise and fall of his chest he could feel her own, his heart beating close in time with hers. Every so often he would shift, but each time he kept her close, holding her to his chest as if he was a child and she the security blanket that kept him safe. For the first time in ages he didn't dream, didn't fret, only allowed himself to relax with her in the safety of the house.
Perhaps it was foolish of him to let his guard down in such a way, but Persephone so clearly trusted Iris and Aimias, he allowed himself to partake of that sensation, if just for tonight. After all he had barely slept properly since they left Taengea, if not for her being sick or the boat rocking or his general fear and worry that she would be harmed when they returned. Now they were here and all he had to focus on was her.
With her tucked against him, he could breathe again. As dawn drew closer instead of rousing as he usually did to pace the decks, Iason slept on. The feeling of her so close awakening his body in a manner it had not since the first time they'd shared a bed. The lack of stress and fret after the night before in which they had come to agreement and understanding of one another allowing dormant desires to be awakened..
Every little flutter of her lashes and relaxation of her tension beneath his touch was a reward, from seeing her tense and worried on the boat ride back to this was a relief. Iason carried on until she stopped him, smiling softly and letting her guide him down beside her. Circling his arms around her he pressed a few soft kisses to her neck before burying his face against her shoulder. They'd slept like this on the boat frequently enough, but it was different somehow here. There was nothing rocking them about, no need to cling to one another to ensure they stayed in the bunk, but more of a desire to be close.
Her legs tangling with his own and the way she fit so perfectly with him in every crook of their bodies made it easy for them to fall against one another, the wear of the day dragging him to sleep. With each rise and fall of his chest he could feel her own, his heart beating close in time with hers. Every so often he would shift, but each time he kept her close, holding her to his chest as if he was a child and she the security blanket that kept him safe. For the first time in ages he didn't dream, didn't fret, only allowed himself to relax with her in the safety of the house.
Perhaps it was foolish of him to let his guard down in such a way, but Persephone so clearly trusted Iris and Aimias, he allowed himself to partake of that sensation, if just for tonight. After all he had barely slept properly since they left Taengea, if not for her being sick or the boat rocking or his general fear and worry that she would be harmed when they returned. Now they were here and all he had to focus on was her.
With her tucked against him, he could breathe again. As dawn drew closer instead of rousing as he usually did to pace the decks, Iason slept on. The feeling of her so close awakening his body in a manner it had not since the first time they'd shared a bed. The lack of stress and fret after the night before in which they had come to agreement and understanding of one another allowing dormant desires to be awakened..
Persephone had always been one to sleep deeply. Whilst the rising of the sun ensured that such slumber was interrupted at daybreak like clockwork, the hours between her head falling to the pillow and the moment the first rays of light broke over the horizon were filled with a deep sleep that only active persuasion could rouse her from. In such hours, she often dreamt, though she rarely remembered the visions that her mind tried to someone in the twilight darkness. Instead, the urgencies of the day ahead, the routines and task lists that she had set into place the night before would have her mind clicking from slumber to wakefulness so fast that it chased away any lasting impressions of dreams. A woman with much on her plate at any one time, it was with repeated surprise that her lady's maids accepted such an instantaneous revival every morning. But to Persephone, it was simply how her mind and body worked. She was efficient and effective and so too was her mind and physicality. It knew when it needed to sleep, chose to take the most of it from those hours and then shrugged away and bolted the door upon any form of distraction when the sun finally rose.
Since travelling to Taengea, Persephone's sleep patterns had not changed. She still slipped into unconsciousness and remained there heavily, moving rarely in her sleep and keeping her mind occupied with vivid dreams. She still woke come the morning with no recognition of them or memory of their meaning. Only occasionally the anxiety or bad mood that one might leave lingering in her nervous system and bloodstream. On the ship returning home, however, Persephone's slumber had been interrupted out of pattern. Her nausea upon the rolling tides often meant that she struggled to fall into a dream state for hours at a time each night. Once there, she remained so until the first rays of sunlight broke through the upper boards not wholly sealed against the elements. Iason had always been awake already, allowing her the privacy within the room they slept in to dress alone. Latter hours of sleep and the same moment of waking had led Persephone to slowly become more tired, sleep deprived and strung upon her last nerve as she maintained her cool and precise exterior. An exterior that Iason had settled into a peaceful relaxation the night before.
Perhaps this was why she slept so calmly that night. Why she awoke slowly, her mind still sluggish and refuting its normal means of waking in an instant. Her eyelids felt heavy with slumber and her mouth dry. Her muscles ached in almost a pleasant way of having been still and heavy for too long. She was also incredibly hot, as the warmth of two bodies and the covers that had, at some point in the night, found their way over them, had settled the two into a cocoon of heat.
Feeling the soft and light dampness of her skin, Persephone breathed deep, the air in her lungs warming her through. She shifted a little, her muscles falling back under the command of her slow thought processes and she moaned a little beneath her breath as her circulation returned. Finding her movement restricted by arms of iron, heavy in sleep, wrapped around her own, Persephone shifted backwards a little, naturally seeking space but finding the heat of another body pressed against her. The hard expanse of Iason's chest came against her back and his pelvis against her rear. Her mind fogged with dreamlike thoughts that wouldn't allow her to come entirely into reality just yet, Persephone wriggled against the contact, her breath coming heavy with the warmth of two body so securely entwined...
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Persephone had always been one to sleep deeply. Whilst the rising of the sun ensured that such slumber was interrupted at daybreak like clockwork, the hours between her head falling to the pillow and the moment the first rays of light broke over the horizon were filled with a deep sleep that only active persuasion could rouse her from. In such hours, she often dreamt, though she rarely remembered the visions that her mind tried to someone in the twilight darkness. Instead, the urgencies of the day ahead, the routines and task lists that she had set into place the night before would have her mind clicking from slumber to wakefulness so fast that it chased away any lasting impressions of dreams. A woman with much on her plate at any one time, it was with repeated surprise that her lady's maids accepted such an instantaneous revival every morning. But to Persephone, it was simply how her mind and body worked. She was efficient and effective and so too was her mind and physicality. It knew when it needed to sleep, chose to take the most of it from those hours and then shrugged away and bolted the door upon any form of distraction when the sun finally rose.
Since travelling to Taengea, Persephone's sleep patterns had not changed. She still slipped into unconsciousness and remained there heavily, moving rarely in her sleep and keeping her mind occupied with vivid dreams. She still woke come the morning with no recognition of them or memory of their meaning. Only occasionally the anxiety or bad mood that one might leave lingering in her nervous system and bloodstream. On the ship returning home, however, Persephone's slumber had been interrupted out of pattern. Her nausea upon the rolling tides often meant that she struggled to fall into a dream state for hours at a time each night. Once there, she remained so until the first rays of sunlight broke through the upper boards not wholly sealed against the elements. Iason had always been awake already, allowing her the privacy within the room they slept in to dress alone. Latter hours of sleep and the same moment of waking had led Persephone to slowly become more tired, sleep deprived and strung upon her last nerve as she maintained her cool and precise exterior. An exterior that Iason had settled into a peaceful relaxation the night before.
Perhaps this was why she slept so calmly that night. Why she awoke slowly, her mind still sluggish and refuting its normal means of waking in an instant. Her eyelids felt heavy with slumber and her mouth dry. Her muscles ached in almost a pleasant way of having been still and heavy for too long. She was also incredibly hot, as the warmth of two bodies and the covers that had, at some point in the night, found their way over them, had settled the two into a cocoon of heat.
Feeling the soft and light dampness of her skin, Persephone breathed deep, the air in her lungs warming her through. She shifted a little, her muscles falling back under the command of her slow thought processes and she moaned a little beneath her breath as her circulation returned. Finding her movement restricted by arms of iron, heavy in sleep, wrapped around her own, Persephone shifted backwards a little, naturally seeking space but finding the heat of another body pressed against her. The hard expanse of Iason's chest came against her back and his pelvis against her rear. Her mind fogged with dreamlike thoughts that wouldn't allow her to come entirely into reality just yet, Persephone wriggled against the contact, her breath coming heavy with the warmth of two body so securely entwined...
Persephone had always been one to sleep deeply. Whilst the rising of the sun ensured that such slumber was interrupted at daybreak like clockwork, the hours between her head falling to the pillow and the moment the first rays of light broke over the horizon were filled with a deep sleep that only active persuasion could rouse her from. In such hours, she often dreamt, though she rarely remembered the visions that her mind tried to someone in the twilight darkness. Instead, the urgencies of the day ahead, the routines and task lists that she had set into place the night before would have her mind clicking from slumber to wakefulness so fast that it chased away any lasting impressions of dreams. A woman with much on her plate at any one time, it was with repeated surprise that her lady's maids accepted such an instantaneous revival every morning. But to Persephone, it was simply how her mind and body worked. She was efficient and effective and so too was her mind and physicality. It knew when it needed to sleep, chose to take the most of it from those hours and then shrugged away and bolted the door upon any form of distraction when the sun finally rose.
Since travelling to Taengea, Persephone's sleep patterns had not changed. She still slipped into unconsciousness and remained there heavily, moving rarely in her sleep and keeping her mind occupied with vivid dreams. She still woke come the morning with no recognition of them or memory of their meaning. Only occasionally the anxiety or bad mood that one might leave lingering in her nervous system and bloodstream. On the ship returning home, however, Persephone's slumber had been interrupted out of pattern. Her nausea upon the rolling tides often meant that she struggled to fall into a dream state for hours at a time each night. Once there, she remained so until the first rays of sunlight broke through the upper boards not wholly sealed against the elements. Iason had always been awake already, allowing her the privacy within the room they slept in to dress alone. Latter hours of sleep and the same moment of waking had led Persephone to slowly become more tired, sleep deprived and strung upon her last nerve as she maintained her cool and precise exterior. An exterior that Iason had settled into a peaceful relaxation the night before.
Perhaps this was why she slept so calmly that night. Why she awoke slowly, her mind still sluggish and refuting its normal means of waking in an instant. Her eyelids felt heavy with slumber and her mouth dry. Her muscles ached in almost a pleasant way of having been still and heavy for too long. She was also incredibly hot, as the warmth of two bodies and the covers that had, at some point in the night, found their way over them, had settled the two into a cocoon of heat.
Feeling the soft and light dampness of her skin, Persephone breathed deep, the air in her lungs warming her through. She shifted a little, her muscles falling back under the command of her slow thought processes and she moaned a little beneath her breath as her circulation returned. Finding her movement restricted by arms of iron, heavy in sleep, wrapped around her own, Persephone shifted backwards a little, naturally seeking space but finding the heat of another body pressed against her. The hard expanse of Iason's chest came against her back and his pelvis against her rear. Her mind fogged with dreamlike thoughts that wouldn't allow her to come entirely into reality just yet, Persephone wriggled against the contact, her breath coming heavy with the warmth of two body so securely entwined...
Sometime in the middle of the night he had created a nest for them under the blankets in spite of both falling asleep atop them. He had a vague memory of rustling about and then curling up against Persephone's back again, trying to absorb as much of her body heat into himself as he could. The rest of the night he had stayed surprisingly still for a man who had a tendency to thrash about when he was in bed by himself, something about the weight of her in his arms and the need to be as close and protective as he could kept him tucked securely against her.
The shifting of his betrothed stirred him, though he was still in the fog of sleep until she rocked back against him and her hair nearly suffocated him as her hips rolled into his own, drawing a low moan from his throat. He didn't open his eyes as he lifted one hand to brush her hair aside, the arm beneath her shifting to hold her against him with a hum, still mostly in his own state of waking daze. Once her hair was out of the way he tried hiding his face from the sun in her shoulder once more, pressing sleepy kisses to her neck until he realized why she was squirming around.
Lifting his arm above his head to give her the space to shift, the arm that had pressed her hips back against his sliding out from under her slight weight, Iason gave a disgruntled noise at being awakened. It seemed the ease and comfort of the bed and the lack of disturbance in the night had given his body leave to do as it pleased, and he was glad he'd chosen to keep his clothing on last night. His pleasant dreams of desire and keeping her close had manifested physically and as he allowed her to move the baron shifted away.
A hand ran over his face to wipe away the sleep, well aware that now he had been roused he wouldn't fall back asleep and honestly a little impressed that he had managed to stay in past the dawn. While his own sleep patterns were not so regulated as Persephone's, it was still rare for him to stay abed past the first morning rays. Sitting up just enough to remove the tunic that had grown uncomfortable with the heat of the night between them, Iason tossed it across the room and fell back on the bed, one hand reaching to brush absently along her back and up into her hair as he tried to convince his body to behave and his eyes to open properly.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Sometime in the middle of the night he had created a nest for them under the blankets in spite of both falling asleep atop them. He had a vague memory of rustling about and then curling up against Persephone's back again, trying to absorb as much of her body heat into himself as he could. The rest of the night he had stayed surprisingly still for a man who had a tendency to thrash about when he was in bed by himself, something about the weight of her in his arms and the need to be as close and protective as he could kept him tucked securely against her.
The shifting of his betrothed stirred him, though he was still in the fog of sleep until she rocked back against him and her hair nearly suffocated him as her hips rolled into his own, drawing a low moan from his throat. He didn't open his eyes as he lifted one hand to brush her hair aside, the arm beneath her shifting to hold her against him with a hum, still mostly in his own state of waking daze. Once her hair was out of the way he tried hiding his face from the sun in her shoulder once more, pressing sleepy kisses to her neck until he realized why she was squirming around.
Lifting his arm above his head to give her the space to shift, the arm that had pressed her hips back against his sliding out from under her slight weight, Iason gave a disgruntled noise at being awakened. It seemed the ease and comfort of the bed and the lack of disturbance in the night had given his body leave to do as it pleased, and he was glad he'd chosen to keep his clothing on last night. His pleasant dreams of desire and keeping her close had manifested physically and as he allowed her to move the baron shifted away.
A hand ran over his face to wipe away the sleep, well aware that now he had been roused he wouldn't fall back asleep and honestly a little impressed that he had managed to stay in past the dawn. While his own sleep patterns were not so regulated as Persephone's, it was still rare for him to stay abed past the first morning rays. Sitting up just enough to remove the tunic that had grown uncomfortable with the heat of the night between them, Iason tossed it across the room and fell back on the bed, one hand reaching to brush absently along her back and up into her hair as he tried to convince his body to behave and his eyes to open properly.
Sometime in the middle of the night he had created a nest for them under the blankets in spite of both falling asleep atop them. He had a vague memory of rustling about and then curling up against Persephone's back again, trying to absorb as much of her body heat into himself as he could. The rest of the night he had stayed surprisingly still for a man who had a tendency to thrash about when he was in bed by himself, something about the weight of her in his arms and the need to be as close and protective as he could kept him tucked securely against her.
The shifting of his betrothed stirred him, though he was still in the fog of sleep until she rocked back against him and her hair nearly suffocated him as her hips rolled into his own, drawing a low moan from his throat. He didn't open his eyes as he lifted one hand to brush her hair aside, the arm beneath her shifting to hold her against him with a hum, still mostly in his own state of waking daze. Once her hair was out of the way he tried hiding his face from the sun in her shoulder once more, pressing sleepy kisses to her neck until he realized why she was squirming around.
Lifting his arm above his head to give her the space to shift, the arm that had pressed her hips back against his sliding out from under her slight weight, Iason gave a disgruntled noise at being awakened. It seemed the ease and comfort of the bed and the lack of disturbance in the night had given his body leave to do as it pleased, and he was glad he'd chosen to keep his clothing on last night. His pleasant dreams of desire and keeping her close had manifested physically and as he allowed her to move the baron shifted away.
A hand ran over his face to wipe away the sleep, well aware that now he had been roused he wouldn't fall back asleep and honestly a little impressed that he had managed to stay in past the dawn. While his own sleep patterns were not so regulated as Persephone's, it was still rare for him to stay abed past the first morning rays. Sitting up just enough to remove the tunic that had grown uncomfortable with the heat of the night between them, Iason tossed it across the room and fell back on the bed, one hand reaching to brush absently along her back and up into her hair as he tried to convince his body to behave and his eyes to open properly.
A low moan came from behind her and Persephone felt her senses become just a little more alert, a heat blooming in her lower belly as she wriggled again against the body that had offered so low a noise in her ear. She felt the contrast of Iason's kiss - the softness of his lips and the coarseness of his beard against the back of her neck. It sent her shoulder up, a ticklishness in her trying to embrace the kiss between neck and shoulder.
Assuming herself to be still in the thick of sleep, Persephone could not attribute a why or how to the manner in which her skin seemed tender and alert. Her legs felt stiff, her hips awkward and all of her muscles ached with the heaviness of sleep. In a rare moment, she was almost clumsy in her movements despite the rumours of her being blessed with an inability to be gangly or disjointed in her movement. As she felt the hard mass of her intended moving away from her back, his arm releasing her from the heated captivity that she belatedly realised she didn't much want to leave, Persephone wriggled and shifted in the bed, her chiton now almost entirely about her waist and loose across her torso.
As Iason lifted himself up to sitting, the soft fumble and shift of fabric filled the air but she was unsure if it was clothing or blanket that he was moving around. Caring only that the warmth of her night was returned to her, Persephone followed a desire that was more instinctive than conscious and rolled back to face an Iason who had returned to lay upon his back. Snuggling up to his side, Persephone's arm reached out across a torso that was now bare of cloth and her leg wrapped around the closest of his.
Exhaling in a slow and calming breath that had her eyelashes flutter in wakefulness and her cheek finding a comfy spot upon his chest, Persephone's breath danced over Iason's skin. Her hand moved in idle comfort, tracing the lines of shadow over Iason's torso; her fingertips following the indentations of his muscles that still clung to the night-time darkness. In between, his flesh was lighter, cooler in the dim light of very early morning and she was distracted by the duality of the light.
As he reacted to her touch and she recognised that they were both now awake, Persephone's fingers curled in upon themselves towards her palm, her hand drawing back towards her mouth where lips curled in an amused light of... almost naughtiness.
"Good morning." She murmured into the darkness of the room, her lower lip drawn between her teeth as if she wished to stem the mirth upon her features. For it seemed silly to laugh and smile over something so simple as the easy pleasure of waking up beside another...
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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A low moan came from behind her and Persephone felt her senses become just a little more alert, a heat blooming in her lower belly as she wriggled again against the body that had offered so low a noise in her ear. She felt the contrast of Iason's kiss - the softness of his lips and the coarseness of his beard against the back of her neck. It sent her shoulder up, a ticklishness in her trying to embrace the kiss between neck and shoulder.
Assuming herself to be still in the thick of sleep, Persephone could not attribute a why or how to the manner in which her skin seemed tender and alert. Her legs felt stiff, her hips awkward and all of her muscles ached with the heaviness of sleep. In a rare moment, she was almost clumsy in her movements despite the rumours of her being blessed with an inability to be gangly or disjointed in her movement. As she felt the hard mass of her intended moving away from her back, his arm releasing her from the heated captivity that she belatedly realised she didn't much want to leave, Persephone wriggled and shifted in the bed, her chiton now almost entirely about her waist and loose across her torso.
As Iason lifted himself up to sitting, the soft fumble and shift of fabric filled the air but she was unsure if it was clothing or blanket that he was moving around. Caring only that the warmth of her night was returned to her, Persephone followed a desire that was more instinctive than conscious and rolled back to face an Iason who had returned to lay upon his back. Snuggling up to his side, Persephone's arm reached out across a torso that was now bare of cloth and her leg wrapped around the closest of his.
Exhaling in a slow and calming breath that had her eyelashes flutter in wakefulness and her cheek finding a comfy spot upon his chest, Persephone's breath danced over Iason's skin. Her hand moved in idle comfort, tracing the lines of shadow over Iason's torso; her fingertips following the indentations of his muscles that still clung to the night-time darkness. In between, his flesh was lighter, cooler in the dim light of very early morning and she was distracted by the duality of the light.
As he reacted to her touch and she recognised that they were both now awake, Persephone's fingers curled in upon themselves towards her palm, her hand drawing back towards her mouth where lips curled in an amused light of... almost naughtiness.
"Good morning." She murmured into the darkness of the room, her lower lip drawn between her teeth as if she wished to stem the mirth upon her features. For it seemed silly to laugh and smile over something so simple as the easy pleasure of waking up beside another...
A low moan came from behind her and Persephone felt her senses become just a little more alert, a heat blooming in her lower belly as she wriggled again against the body that had offered so low a noise in her ear. She felt the contrast of Iason's kiss - the softness of his lips and the coarseness of his beard against the back of her neck. It sent her shoulder up, a ticklishness in her trying to embrace the kiss between neck and shoulder.
Assuming herself to be still in the thick of sleep, Persephone could not attribute a why or how to the manner in which her skin seemed tender and alert. Her legs felt stiff, her hips awkward and all of her muscles ached with the heaviness of sleep. In a rare moment, she was almost clumsy in her movements despite the rumours of her being blessed with an inability to be gangly or disjointed in her movement. As she felt the hard mass of her intended moving away from her back, his arm releasing her from the heated captivity that she belatedly realised she didn't much want to leave, Persephone wriggled and shifted in the bed, her chiton now almost entirely about her waist and loose across her torso.
As Iason lifted himself up to sitting, the soft fumble and shift of fabric filled the air but she was unsure if it was clothing or blanket that he was moving around. Caring only that the warmth of her night was returned to her, Persephone followed a desire that was more instinctive than conscious and rolled back to face an Iason who had returned to lay upon his back. Snuggling up to his side, Persephone's arm reached out across a torso that was now bare of cloth and her leg wrapped around the closest of his.
Exhaling in a slow and calming breath that had her eyelashes flutter in wakefulness and her cheek finding a comfy spot upon his chest, Persephone's breath danced over Iason's skin. Her hand moved in idle comfort, tracing the lines of shadow over Iason's torso; her fingertips following the indentations of his muscles that still clung to the night-time darkness. In between, his flesh was lighter, cooler in the dim light of very early morning and she was distracted by the duality of the light.
As he reacted to her touch and she recognised that they were both now awake, Persephone's fingers curled in upon themselves towards her palm, her hand drawing back towards her mouth where lips curled in an amused light of... almost naughtiness.
"Good morning." She murmured into the darkness of the room, her lower lip drawn between her teeth as if she wished to stem the mirth upon her features. For it seemed silly to laugh and smile over something so simple as the easy pleasure of waking up beside another...
A smile crept across his lips as she curled into his side, wrapping one arm around her shoulders to hold her close, the other landing on her thigh as she hooked it over his own. Mornings like this were what he looked forward to for the rest of his life, cuddled up together exchanging little kisses and touches to soothe and reassure one another. Cracking one eye open to assess the light, he realized it was earlier than he'd originally thought and gave another grumble, burying his face in her hair and hauling her tighter against him. Given the position she was in it would have been difficult now for her to ignore a certain piece of anatomy that was making its presence known, from his dreams to reality.
"Mmm morning. But not quite."
Iason shook his head, nuzzling his nose against her hair and tightening his stomach under the traipse of her fingers until she pulled them away which drew a soft sound of disappointment from him. It was much nicer than he'd thought it would be, just lying in bed with a lover, exchanging little touches and moments, his own fingertips tracing along the bare skin of her thigh. His lips brushed against her hair in absent kisses, the hand on her leg sliding boldly up to the curve of her rear and back down to rest at her knee, drawing it gently higher as he turned to find her lips.
They'd been intimate a few times, but only once had they ever truly joined, when they gave over their virginities to one another in a manner that someone like Emilios and Stephanos of Mikaelidas would have mocked him for. Those two would have scoffed at his romantic ideas of exchanging chastity for one another, he had only his mother's teachings and his father's examples to blame. His mother had been firm with him from the beginning, what it meant to share ones body with another, the love and trust and respect it took, and it had been proven when after her death, his father hadn't touched anyone else as far as he knew. Certainly now with the announcement of his marriage to another woman fourteen years later was the first he'd ever heard of Gavriil of Dimitrou taking an interest.
Now that they were safe, in a bed far more large and comfortable than what they'd had on the boat, he was interested in seeing how well they did again. What would be different now that they knew more of what to expect, what would they ask of each other, discover, now they had a hint of experience. If she pushed him away, asked for more time, he would find a way to break the spell she kept on him in every waking moment, but if not, his body was certainly sufficiently awake to see what more they could discover.
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A smile crept across his lips as she curled into his side, wrapping one arm around her shoulders to hold her close, the other landing on her thigh as she hooked it over his own. Mornings like this were what he looked forward to for the rest of his life, cuddled up together exchanging little kisses and touches to soothe and reassure one another. Cracking one eye open to assess the light, he realized it was earlier than he'd originally thought and gave another grumble, burying his face in her hair and hauling her tighter against him. Given the position she was in it would have been difficult now for her to ignore a certain piece of anatomy that was making its presence known, from his dreams to reality.
"Mmm morning. But not quite."
Iason shook his head, nuzzling his nose against her hair and tightening his stomach under the traipse of her fingers until she pulled them away which drew a soft sound of disappointment from him. It was much nicer than he'd thought it would be, just lying in bed with a lover, exchanging little touches and moments, his own fingertips tracing along the bare skin of her thigh. His lips brushed against her hair in absent kisses, the hand on her leg sliding boldly up to the curve of her rear and back down to rest at her knee, drawing it gently higher as he turned to find her lips.
They'd been intimate a few times, but only once had they ever truly joined, when they gave over their virginities to one another in a manner that someone like Emilios and Stephanos of Mikaelidas would have mocked him for. Those two would have scoffed at his romantic ideas of exchanging chastity for one another, he had only his mother's teachings and his father's examples to blame. His mother had been firm with him from the beginning, what it meant to share ones body with another, the love and trust and respect it took, and it had been proven when after her death, his father hadn't touched anyone else as far as he knew. Certainly now with the announcement of his marriage to another woman fourteen years later was the first he'd ever heard of Gavriil of Dimitrou taking an interest.
Now that they were safe, in a bed far more large and comfortable than what they'd had on the boat, he was interested in seeing how well they did again. What would be different now that they knew more of what to expect, what would they ask of each other, discover, now they had a hint of experience. If she pushed him away, asked for more time, he would find a way to break the spell she kept on him in every waking moment, but if not, his body was certainly sufficiently awake to see what more they could discover.
A smile crept across his lips as she curled into his side, wrapping one arm around her shoulders to hold her close, the other landing on her thigh as she hooked it over his own. Mornings like this were what he looked forward to for the rest of his life, cuddled up together exchanging little kisses and touches to soothe and reassure one another. Cracking one eye open to assess the light, he realized it was earlier than he'd originally thought and gave another grumble, burying his face in her hair and hauling her tighter against him. Given the position she was in it would have been difficult now for her to ignore a certain piece of anatomy that was making its presence known, from his dreams to reality.
"Mmm morning. But not quite."
Iason shook his head, nuzzling his nose against her hair and tightening his stomach under the traipse of her fingers until she pulled them away which drew a soft sound of disappointment from him. It was much nicer than he'd thought it would be, just lying in bed with a lover, exchanging little touches and moments, his own fingertips tracing along the bare skin of her thigh. His lips brushed against her hair in absent kisses, the hand on her leg sliding boldly up to the curve of her rear and back down to rest at her knee, drawing it gently higher as he turned to find her lips.
They'd been intimate a few times, but only once had they ever truly joined, when they gave over their virginities to one another in a manner that someone like Emilios and Stephanos of Mikaelidas would have mocked him for. Those two would have scoffed at his romantic ideas of exchanging chastity for one another, he had only his mother's teachings and his father's examples to blame. His mother had been firm with him from the beginning, what it meant to share ones body with another, the love and trust and respect it took, and it had been proven when after her death, his father hadn't touched anyone else as far as he knew. Certainly now with the announcement of his marriage to another woman fourteen years later was the first he'd ever heard of Gavriil of Dimitrou taking an interest.
Now that they were safe, in a bed far more large and comfortable than what they'd had on the boat, he was interested in seeing how well they did again. What would be different now that they knew more of what to expect, what would they ask of each other, discover, now they had a hint of experience. If she pushed him away, asked for more time, he would find a way to break the spell she kept on him in every waking moment, but if not, his body was certainly sufficiently awake to see what more they could discover.
Persephone drew herself close to the warmth that was Iason, without truly recognising the natural acceptance she gave to his bare form. As his hand moved to take hold of her leg, to stroke over her thigh and bottom, she pressed herself closer, her femininity up against the side of his hip and her acceptance of his touch an instinctive trust that still set shivers over her skin. It was as she moved that she felt the returned arousal in his own form up against her thigh and eager for attention that she was too inexperienced to know to give.
Feeling the love and care in the simple touches and kisses that he offered her, Persephone felt herself almost preening over the gentility... basking in the attention to the details that was she. So often she had been complimented on her appearance; praised as the perfect image of a princess. She was told time and again that her beauty was that of a Goddess on Earth and that the divine spirits had clearly blessed her with fortune. Yes, such words and praise came from the lips of subjects to the ears of royalty. They were spoken of the entirety of the package that was her role, her character and her existence. They praised the entirety of the princess; the crown, the gown, the posture, the carriage, the curled hair, the treated skin, the made-up face. They offered words of exultation to an image - a complete visage.
When Iason touched her, he touched her. He kissed the lengths of her hair, he stroked the skin of her arm, he felt the rounded curve of her rear. His compliments were not verbal but they were of her as she was - in reality. It had her feeling bizarrely frightened and perfectly secure at the same time.
Had Persephone pondered on her lack of knowledge regarding how to return such attentions, she wasn't sure where she would have attributed her lack of boldness. Was it due to her lack of experience? Did her recent state of chastity hold the answers to why she didn't simply reach over and offer to pleasure the man that would become her husband? Or was she more prudish by nature? A woman who simply did not open herself up to the acceptance that she could be an openly sensual being?
Perhaps, as with most things, it was a combination of the two. Unable to simply shift a leg over Iason's hips and offer him a repeat of the pleasure they had found together in Chaoedia, Persephone was left with the lesser limit of her own boldness. She could not make a witty comment, could not be seductive in her expression or phrasings. Instead, she could give only what she was...
Reaching a hand tentatively across his lower abdomen, Persephone's fingertips brushed over his skin, the curvature of muscle from his hip down towards his groin. She felt the brush of his manhood against her wrist and paused. Unable to offer anything further in her state of uncertainty, Persephone simply looked up towards her betrothed. Shifting from her cheek to her chin, her gaze now upon his, she spoke with softness, an innocence and a straight forward sense of self that she had accomplished everything else in her life until now...
"Do you wish to make love to me, Iason?" A little husky with sleep, Persephone's tone was perhaps more seductive than she herself could recognise it to be...
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Persephone drew herself close to the warmth that was Iason, without truly recognising the natural acceptance she gave to his bare form. As his hand moved to take hold of her leg, to stroke over her thigh and bottom, she pressed herself closer, her femininity up against the side of his hip and her acceptance of his touch an instinctive trust that still set shivers over her skin. It was as she moved that she felt the returned arousal in his own form up against her thigh and eager for attention that she was too inexperienced to know to give.
Feeling the love and care in the simple touches and kisses that he offered her, Persephone felt herself almost preening over the gentility... basking in the attention to the details that was she. So often she had been complimented on her appearance; praised as the perfect image of a princess. She was told time and again that her beauty was that of a Goddess on Earth and that the divine spirits had clearly blessed her with fortune. Yes, such words and praise came from the lips of subjects to the ears of royalty. They were spoken of the entirety of the package that was her role, her character and her existence. They praised the entirety of the princess; the crown, the gown, the posture, the carriage, the curled hair, the treated skin, the made-up face. They offered words of exultation to an image - a complete visage.
When Iason touched her, he touched her. He kissed the lengths of her hair, he stroked the skin of her arm, he felt the rounded curve of her rear. His compliments were not verbal but they were of her as she was - in reality. It had her feeling bizarrely frightened and perfectly secure at the same time.
Had Persephone pondered on her lack of knowledge regarding how to return such attentions, she wasn't sure where she would have attributed her lack of boldness. Was it due to her lack of experience? Did her recent state of chastity hold the answers to why she didn't simply reach over and offer to pleasure the man that would become her husband? Or was she more prudish by nature? A woman who simply did not open herself up to the acceptance that she could be an openly sensual being?
Perhaps, as with most things, it was a combination of the two. Unable to simply shift a leg over Iason's hips and offer him a repeat of the pleasure they had found together in Chaoedia, Persephone was left with the lesser limit of her own boldness. She could not make a witty comment, could not be seductive in her expression or phrasings. Instead, she could give only what she was...
Reaching a hand tentatively across his lower abdomen, Persephone's fingertips brushed over his skin, the curvature of muscle from his hip down towards his groin. She felt the brush of his manhood against her wrist and paused. Unable to offer anything further in her state of uncertainty, Persephone simply looked up towards her betrothed. Shifting from her cheek to her chin, her gaze now upon his, she spoke with softness, an innocence and a straight forward sense of self that she had accomplished everything else in her life until now...
"Do you wish to make love to me, Iason?" A little husky with sleep, Persephone's tone was perhaps more seductive than she herself could recognise it to be...
Persephone drew herself close to the warmth that was Iason, without truly recognising the natural acceptance she gave to his bare form. As his hand moved to take hold of her leg, to stroke over her thigh and bottom, she pressed herself closer, her femininity up against the side of his hip and her acceptance of his touch an instinctive trust that still set shivers over her skin. It was as she moved that she felt the returned arousal in his own form up against her thigh and eager for attention that she was too inexperienced to know to give.
Feeling the love and care in the simple touches and kisses that he offered her, Persephone felt herself almost preening over the gentility... basking in the attention to the details that was she. So often she had been complimented on her appearance; praised as the perfect image of a princess. She was told time and again that her beauty was that of a Goddess on Earth and that the divine spirits had clearly blessed her with fortune. Yes, such words and praise came from the lips of subjects to the ears of royalty. They were spoken of the entirety of the package that was her role, her character and her existence. They praised the entirety of the princess; the crown, the gown, the posture, the carriage, the curled hair, the treated skin, the made-up face. They offered words of exultation to an image - a complete visage.
When Iason touched her, he touched her. He kissed the lengths of her hair, he stroked the skin of her arm, he felt the rounded curve of her rear. His compliments were not verbal but they were of her as she was - in reality. It had her feeling bizarrely frightened and perfectly secure at the same time.
Had Persephone pondered on her lack of knowledge regarding how to return such attentions, she wasn't sure where she would have attributed her lack of boldness. Was it due to her lack of experience? Did her recent state of chastity hold the answers to why she didn't simply reach over and offer to pleasure the man that would become her husband? Or was she more prudish by nature? A woman who simply did not open herself up to the acceptance that she could be an openly sensual being?
Perhaps, as with most things, it was a combination of the two. Unable to simply shift a leg over Iason's hips and offer him a repeat of the pleasure they had found together in Chaoedia, Persephone was left with the lesser limit of her own boldness. She could not make a witty comment, could not be seductive in her expression or phrasings. Instead, she could give only what she was...
Reaching a hand tentatively across his lower abdomen, Persephone's fingertips brushed over his skin, the curvature of muscle from his hip down towards his groin. She felt the brush of his manhood against her wrist and paused. Unable to offer anything further in her state of uncertainty, Persephone simply looked up towards her betrothed. Shifting from her cheek to her chin, her gaze now upon his, she spoke with softness, an innocence and a straight forward sense of self that she had accomplished everything else in her life until now...
"Do you wish to make love to me, Iason?" A little husky with sleep, Persephone's tone was perhaps more seductive than she herself could recognise it to be...
For all of their combined innocence, it was a relief and comfort to see how easily they melted together, curling up together for the security they gave one another. After everything they'd been through in the short time they'd been in one another's lives, it felt right to be able to seek and find reassurance from the other. He didn't push their kiss too much, breaking away to brush his nose against hers and simply give a sigh of content against her hair. Her hand brushing over his stomach drew a hum, laced with a desire as the delicate fingers slipped lower and she brushed against his hardness whether intentional or accidental.
The question that came from her lips felt as if it had an obvious answer, and he tried to hide his smile as she looked up at him. Now didn't feel like the time to tell her that he always wanted her, couldn't think of a time when he didn't want to make love to her and see what more they could discover together. They were here for a very specific reason, and his goal was to ensure that they got in and out safely and quickly to return Emilia and Persephone to Taengea. Then he could focus on his desires and speak to what he truly wanted.
It was the phrasing of the question that made him pause somewhat before responding. Did he wish to make love to her? Of course, but did she want him? It wasn't the sort of thing that sounded as if it had a mutual desire behind it, though her voice sent shivers through him that seemed targeted to increase the lust he had been trying to control. In response he gave a slight nod, dipping his head to steal another kiss and press his forehead to hers before answering.
"Always. But only if you wish. Husband or no I won't ever insist if you don't wish the same."
He knew there were many men who didn't feel the same, that once they were wed their wife was their property to do with as they would, but that to him felt utterly barbaric. Whether he had married for love or alliance, he had never intended to force what should only be for connection to create heirs or a stronger bond, or love if they were so lucky. He knew full well how he felt for her now though, and he was confident even if she was less vocal of the fact that she felt the same. Even as he spoke his hand along her hip slid up to the small of her back instead, trying to prove as much as his body clearly desired a moment with her that he would not simply throw her over and have his way.
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For all of their combined innocence, it was a relief and comfort to see how easily they melted together, curling up together for the security they gave one another. After everything they'd been through in the short time they'd been in one another's lives, it felt right to be able to seek and find reassurance from the other. He didn't push their kiss too much, breaking away to brush his nose against hers and simply give a sigh of content against her hair. Her hand brushing over his stomach drew a hum, laced with a desire as the delicate fingers slipped lower and she brushed against his hardness whether intentional or accidental.
The question that came from her lips felt as if it had an obvious answer, and he tried to hide his smile as she looked up at him. Now didn't feel like the time to tell her that he always wanted her, couldn't think of a time when he didn't want to make love to her and see what more they could discover together. They were here for a very specific reason, and his goal was to ensure that they got in and out safely and quickly to return Emilia and Persephone to Taengea. Then he could focus on his desires and speak to what he truly wanted.
It was the phrasing of the question that made him pause somewhat before responding. Did he wish to make love to her? Of course, but did she want him? It wasn't the sort of thing that sounded as if it had a mutual desire behind it, though her voice sent shivers through him that seemed targeted to increase the lust he had been trying to control. In response he gave a slight nod, dipping his head to steal another kiss and press his forehead to hers before answering.
"Always. But only if you wish. Husband or no I won't ever insist if you don't wish the same."
He knew there were many men who didn't feel the same, that once they were wed their wife was their property to do with as they would, but that to him felt utterly barbaric. Whether he had married for love or alliance, he had never intended to force what should only be for connection to create heirs or a stronger bond, or love if they were so lucky. He knew full well how he felt for her now though, and he was confident even if she was less vocal of the fact that she felt the same. Even as he spoke his hand along her hip slid up to the small of her back instead, trying to prove as much as his body clearly desired a moment with her that he would not simply throw her over and have his way.
For all of their combined innocence, it was a relief and comfort to see how easily they melted together, curling up together for the security they gave one another. After everything they'd been through in the short time they'd been in one another's lives, it felt right to be able to seek and find reassurance from the other. He didn't push their kiss too much, breaking away to brush his nose against hers and simply give a sigh of content against her hair. Her hand brushing over his stomach drew a hum, laced with a desire as the delicate fingers slipped lower and she brushed against his hardness whether intentional or accidental.
The question that came from her lips felt as if it had an obvious answer, and he tried to hide his smile as she looked up at him. Now didn't feel like the time to tell her that he always wanted her, couldn't think of a time when he didn't want to make love to her and see what more they could discover together. They were here for a very specific reason, and his goal was to ensure that they got in and out safely and quickly to return Emilia and Persephone to Taengea. Then he could focus on his desires and speak to what he truly wanted.
It was the phrasing of the question that made him pause somewhat before responding. Did he wish to make love to her? Of course, but did she want him? It wasn't the sort of thing that sounded as if it had a mutual desire behind it, though her voice sent shivers through him that seemed targeted to increase the lust he had been trying to control. In response he gave a slight nod, dipping his head to steal another kiss and press his forehead to hers before answering.
"Always. But only if you wish. Husband or no I won't ever insist if you don't wish the same."
He knew there were many men who didn't feel the same, that once they were wed their wife was their property to do with as they would, but that to him felt utterly barbaric. Whether he had married for love or alliance, he had never intended to force what should only be for connection to create heirs or a stronger bond, or love if they were so lucky. He knew full well how he felt for her now though, and he was confident even if she was less vocal of the fact that she felt the same. Even as he spoke his hand along her hip slid up to the small of her back instead, trying to prove as much as his body clearly desired a moment with her that he would not simply throw her over and have his way.
Persephone enjoyed the almost delicate touch of his lips to hers, the way he nudged at her nose or put his forehead to hers... a gesture of closeness, care and intimacy that did not push towards something more. She knew from rumour and gossip that the joining of bodies was something men expected and needed on a fairly regular basis. She had even heard some servants complain that it had to be every night. The fact that it had been nearly two weeks of travel and practicalities since their last time together, spoke of Iason's determination not to push her beyond what she was comfortable for. She smiled against his skin, her lips offering a light kiss to the pectoral she leant against.
When he spoke, it was with a reverence and a husky tone that was either from desire or from early morning sleepiness - or both - and she felt a shiver down her spine at the masculinity of such a voice... Her hand moved up over his abdomen to place a palm over the thudding of his heart. She looked up to meet his gaze, her hand shifting over his shoulder and arm.
"I would not have asked otherwise." She told him with a softness that brought a heat to her cheeks. She glanced away with the downward fan of her lashes hiding her nervousness. She looked up from beneath them, an uncharacteristic uncertainty on her features. "I know not how to seduce a man... my future husband included." Her white teeth bit down onto her lower lip. "But I know I wish to be close to you..." Her hips shifted forwards, to press into his side in a manner that was more instinctive than conscious. "Closer than skin alone can allow..."
To her mind, her own words made no sense. She could not comprehend the logic behind such a sentiment. Yet, her skin, her heart and the heat that burned in the core of her soul seemed to spur the language beyond her lips, the whispered words almost loud within the quiet chamber. Each movement she made, created a soft brush of silken sheets around her frame and each touch of skin seemed to hold its own note of sound. Like a human tune playing between their bodies.
Lifting herself to reach for a kiss that he had bestowed so openly a moment before, Persephone's touch was just as gentle. Fragile and soft in its touch, she barely grazed Iason's lips in her timidity and uncertainty. But the kiss was not an opener to passion. It was more a seal of permission, approval and request...
Her touch moved to the arm furthest from her, a light pressure in her fingertips encouraging him to turn onto his side to face her...
"Be with me, Iason...?"
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Persephone enjoyed the almost delicate touch of his lips to hers, the way he nudged at her nose or put his forehead to hers... a gesture of closeness, care and intimacy that did not push towards something more. She knew from rumour and gossip that the joining of bodies was something men expected and needed on a fairly regular basis. She had even heard some servants complain that it had to be every night. The fact that it had been nearly two weeks of travel and practicalities since their last time together, spoke of Iason's determination not to push her beyond what she was comfortable for. She smiled against his skin, her lips offering a light kiss to the pectoral she leant against.
When he spoke, it was with a reverence and a husky tone that was either from desire or from early morning sleepiness - or both - and she felt a shiver down her spine at the masculinity of such a voice... Her hand moved up over his abdomen to place a palm over the thudding of his heart. She looked up to meet his gaze, her hand shifting over his shoulder and arm.
"I would not have asked otherwise." She told him with a softness that brought a heat to her cheeks. She glanced away with the downward fan of her lashes hiding her nervousness. She looked up from beneath them, an uncharacteristic uncertainty on her features. "I know not how to seduce a man... my future husband included." Her white teeth bit down onto her lower lip. "But I know I wish to be close to you..." Her hips shifted forwards, to press into his side in a manner that was more instinctive than conscious. "Closer than skin alone can allow..."
To her mind, her own words made no sense. She could not comprehend the logic behind such a sentiment. Yet, her skin, her heart and the heat that burned in the core of her soul seemed to spur the language beyond her lips, the whispered words almost loud within the quiet chamber. Each movement she made, created a soft brush of silken sheets around her frame and each touch of skin seemed to hold its own note of sound. Like a human tune playing between their bodies.
Lifting herself to reach for a kiss that he had bestowed so openly a moment before, Persephone's touch was just as gentle. Fragile and soft in its touch, she barely grazed Iason's lips in her timidity and uncertainty. But the kiss was not an opener to passion. It was more a seal of permission, approval and request...
Her touch moved to the arm furthest from her, a light pressure in her fingertips encouraging him to turn onto his side to face her...
"Be with me, Iason...?"
Persephone enjoyed the almost delicate touch of his lips to hers, the way he nudged at her nose or put his forehead to hers... a gesture of closeness, care and intimacy that did not push towards something more. She knew from rumour and gossip that the joining of bodies was something men expected and needed on a fairly regular basis. She had even heard some servants complain that it had to be every night. The fact that it had been nearly two weeks of travel and practicalities since their last time together, spoke of Iason's determination not to push her beyond what she was comfortable for. She smiled against his skin, her lips offering a light kiss to the pectoral she leant against.
When he spoke, it was with a reverence and a husky tone that was either from desire or from early morning sleepiness - or both - and she felt a shiver down her spine at the masculinity of such a voice... Her hand moved up over his abdomen to place a palm over the thudding of his heart. She looked up to meet his gaze, her hand shifting over his shoulder and arm.
"I would not have asked otherwise." She told him with a softness that brought a heat to her cheeks. She glanced away with the downward fan of her lashes hiding her nervousness. She looked up from beneath them, an uncharacteristic uncertainty on her features. "I know not how to seduce a man... my future husband included." Her white teeth bit down onto her lower lip. "But I know I wish to be close to you..." Her hips shifted forwards, to press into his side in a manner that was more instinctive than conscious. "Closer than skin alone can allow..."
To her mind, her own words made no sense. She could not comprehend the logic behind such a sentiment. Yet, her skin, her heart and the heat that burned in the core of her soul seemed to spur the language beyond her lips, the whispered words almost loud within the quiet chamber. Each movement she made, created a soft brush of silken sheets around her frame and each touch of skin seemed to hold its own note of sound. Like a human tune playing between their bodies.
Lifting herself to reach for a kiss that he had bestowed so openly a moment before, Persephone's touch was just as gentle. Fragile and soft in its touch, she barely grazed Iason's lips in her timidity and uncertainty. But the kiss was not an opener to passion. It was more a seal of permission, approval and request...
Her touch moved to the arm furthest from her, a light pressure in her fingertips encouraging him to turn onto his side to face her...
"Be with me, Iason...?"
"You have only to look at me to seduce me."
Iason spoke with the slightest hint of jest, light eyes meeting dark as her hand landed above his heart, the beat increasing as she looked at him and continued to touch him. Her body had somehow managed to form against his own, no space left between their skin aside from the hint of the fabric that still draped over her torso. The gentle press of their lips was permission and request, and it took only the feather lightest touch for him to turn to face her as she wished. They barely had experience between them but this part at least they had spent some time practicing, and this time his kiss was more eager, intent on spurring desire between them.
"As you wish."
In a tone he didn't quite recognize as his own he breathed out the words with unconcealed want. Past seduction or flirtation and onto something more raw. His arms wrapped around her, one sliding up to her hair and supporting the back of her neck as the other was more bold in tugging their hips flush, his desire pressed between them. Kissing her was easy, that was instinct he could follow without hesitation.
Once again he had a moment of wishing he had paid more attention to the antics of his cousins, wishing he was able to impress her with more skill than he had, or an idea of how to move them forward without going too fast or too slow. His hips shifted against hers and he gave a low sound against her lips, half hoping she didn't mind the noises he made, and half seeking to draw similar from her. That was after all a sign of enjoyment that he knew, that he was doing something right, not just entirely taking advantage. Unless she preferred silence.
Focusing on removing the chiton that still wound around her torso, Iason lifted it over her head and let it pool behind her, returning to focus on kissing her and stoking the desire between them. His hands slid up her back and down along her sides to her hips again, intent on touching every inch of her skin that he could. It still felt surreal to be with her like this, but his body was now allowing so many coherent thoughts and realizations to be made as their skin pressed and shifted in ways that sent sparks of pleasure and need through him.
"What do you desire?"
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"You have only to look at me to seduce me."
Iason spoke with the slightest hint of jest, light eyes meeting dark as her hand landed above his heart, the beat increasing as she looked at him and continued to touch him. Her body had somehow managed to form against his own, no space left between their skin aside from the hint of the fabric that still draped over her torso. The gentle press of their lips was permission and request, and it took only the feather lightest touch for him to turn to face her as she wished. They barely had experience between them but this part at least they had spent some time practicing, and this time his kiss was more eager, intent on spurring desire between them.
"As you wish."
In a tone he didn't quite recognize as his own he breathed out the words with unconcealed want. Past seduction or flirtation and onto something more raw. His arms wrapped around her, one sliding up to her hair and supporting the back of her neck as the other was more bold in tugging their hips flush, his desire pressed between them. Kissing her was easy, that was instinct he could follow without hesitation.
Once again he had a moment of wishing he had paid more attention to the antics of his cousins, wishing he was able to impress her with more skill than he had, or an idea of how to move them forward without going too fast or too slow. His hips shifted against hers and he gave a low sound against her lips, half hoping she didn't mind the noises he made, and half seeking to draw similar from her. That was after all a sign of enjoyment that he knew, that he was doing something right, not just entirely taking advantage. Unless she preferred silence.
Focusing on removing the chiton that still wound around her torso, Iason lifted it over her head and let it pool behind her, returning to focus on kissing her and stoking the desire between them. His hands slid up her back and down along her sides to her hips again, intent on touching every inch of her skin that he could. It still felt surreal to be with her like this, but his body was now allowing so many coherent thoughts and realizations to be made as their skin pressed and shifted in ways that sent sparks of pleasure and need through him.
"What do you desire?"
"You have only to look at me to seduce me."
Iason spoke with the slightest hint of jest, light eyes meeting dark as her hand landed above his heart, the beat increasing as she looked at him and continued to touch him. Her body had somehow managed to form against his own, no space left between their skin aside from the hint of the fabric that still draped over her torso. The gentle press of their lips was permission and request, and it took only the feather lightest touch for him to turn to face her as she wished. They barely had experience between them but this part at least they had spent some time practicing, and this time his kiss was more eager, intent on spurring desire between them.
"As you wish."
In a tone he didn't quite recognize as his own he breathed out the words with unconcealed want. Past seduction or flirtation and onto something more raw. His arms wrapped around her, one sliding up to her hair and supporting the back of her neck as the other was more bold in tugging their hips flush, his desire pressed between them. Kissing her was easy, that was instinct he could follow without hesitation.
Once again he had a moment of wishing he had paid more attention to the antics of his cousins, wishing he was able to impress her with more skill than he had, or an idea of how to move them forward without going too fast or too slow. His hips shifted against hers and he gave a low sound against her lips, half hoping she didn't mind the noises he made, and half seeking to draw similar from her. That was after all a sign of enjoyment that he knew, that he was doing something right, not just entirely taking advantage. Unless she preferred silence.
Focusing on removing the chiton that still wound around her torso, Iason lifted it over her head and let it pool behind her, returning to focus on kissing her and stoking the desire between them. His hands slid up her back and down along her sides to her hips again, intent on touching every inch of her skin that he could. It still felt surreal to be with her like this, but his body was now allowing so many coherent thoughts and realizations to be made as their skin pressed and shifted in ways that sent sparks of pleasure and need through him.
"What do you desire?"
The heat blooming over her skin only escalated with Iason's words of assurance... that she had only to gaze upon him to have him wishing to hold her. How such a thing was possible, she had no idea but she liked the sound of it. Over the weeks and near months that they had slowly come together in heart and body, Persephone had feared that all she brought to Iason was pain and suffering. That he had come to marry a would-be Queen and she had been forced to flee her own nation. That he had wished to marry a woman to become his baroness and now she dragged him back to Athenia. That her family had offered him riches for the union that were now no longer hers to offer. That she might be considered beautiful but yet had no experience in physical love... That she could rule a kingdom but not a household that he wished for...
In all ways that she could measure or logically analyse, she was the worst choice for Iason's wife. She offered him nothing that he could wish for. And yet, still he loved her. Still he claimed to want her. And now she knew that at least, in this most basic and perhaps archaic foundation of a relationship... she could at least spark him to desire... A single victory in a sea of changing circumstances and broken promises.
Her heart broke, in that moment. Grew large in her chest and threatened to choke her as that heat rose beneath her skin, energising her limbs in a way that burnt away the sleep and had her languid with desire over slumber. Each touch that Iason made across her arms, legs and waist seemed to be stoking the fires in her very bones, stealing breath from her lungs and thought from her mind.
As one of his palms found the back of her neck, the silk of her hair flowing over his fingers and down his arm, Persephone arched into his frame, as if her lips were simultaneously resisting his and begging him to come closer. Her hips naturally followed the line that he encouraged with his other hand, her hips coming flush to his and feeling proof of his manly need for her hard up against her lower belly.
It felt like the greatest of injustices. There was a point, an internal core of her that burned for his presence. That felt empty without it. And yet the strength of his ardour, that could quench such a need, was barely an inch away, kept at bay by the lean muscle and soft skin of her belly. Illogically, Persephone felt her pelvis push forwards again, into space that was not there, desperate to have the two meet...
Iason's hands left her hip then, only to reach up and tug at her chiton. Persephone lifted her arms, too emboldened by desire to be shy of her naked form as the silk was removed, up and over her head. It remained tangled about her arms, keeping them pinned up and back so that her body was offered in a tempting arch, her bare breasts against Iason's chest, peaks hardening against his skin. Persephone felt herself gasp at the touch of crisp hair against sensitive flesh.
As he asked her what she desired, so soft noise, falling short of a whimper rested on Persephone's tongue. She knew not what to ask of him, she didn't know what she wanted or needed in so many words. It was her body now that ruled her head - not her tongue. How she could put such abstract feelings of heat and want into logical instruction she had no idea...
Shaking free her hands and reaching for him, Persephone's arms wound around Iason's neck, her mouth finding his and absorbing the soft moans that drew up from deep within his chest. The single word "You" broke from between her lips, as her eyes closed and she sunk into the connection, her tongue reaching for his to escalate the desire already burning between them...
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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The heat blooming over her skin only escalated with Iason's words of assurance... that she had only to gaze upon him to have him wishing to hold her. How such a thing was possible, she had no idea but she liked the sound of it. Over the weeks and near months that they had slowly come together in heart and body, Persephone had feared that all she brought to Iason was pain and suffering. That he had come to marry a would-be Queen and she had been forced to flee her own nation. That he had wished to marry a woman to become his baroness and now she dragged him back to Athenia. That her family had offered him riches for the union that were now no longer hers to offer. That she might be considered beautiful but yet had no experience in physical love... That she could rule a kingdom but not a household that he wished for...
In all ways that she could measure or logically analyse, she was the worst choice for Iason's wife. She offered him nothing that he could wish for. And yet, still he loved her. Still he claimed to want her. And now she knew that at least, in this most basic and perhaps archaic foundation of a relationship... she could at least spark him to desire... A single victory in a sea of changing circumstances and broken promises.
Her heart broke, in that moment. Grew large in her chest and threatened to choke her as that heat rose beneath her skin, energising her limbs in a way that burnt away the sleep and had her languid with desire over slumber. Each touch that Iason made across her arms, legs and waist seemed to be stoking the fires in her very bones, stealing breath from her lungs and thought from her mind.
As one of his palms found the back of her neck, the silk of her hair flowing over his fingers and down his arm, Persephone arched into his frame, as if her lips were simultaneously resisting his and begging him to come closer. Her hips naturally followed the line that he encouraged with his other hand, her hips coming flush to his and feeling proof of his manly need for her hard up against her lower belly.
It felt like the greatest of injustices. There was a point, an internal core of her that burned for his presence. That felt empty without it. And yet the strength of his ardour, that could quench such a need, was barely an inch away, kept at bay by the lean muscle and soft skin of her belly. Illogically, Persephone felt her pelvis push forwards again, into space that was not there, desperate to have the two meet...
Iason's hands left her hip then, only to reach up and tug at her chiton. Persephone lifted her arms, too emboldened by desire to be shy of her naked form as the silk was removed, up and over her head. It remained tangled about her arms, keeping them pinned up and back so that her body was offered in a tempting arch, her bare breasts against Iason's chest, peaks hardening against his skin. Persephone felt herself gasp at the touch of crisp hair against sensitive flesh.
As he asked her what she desired, so soft noise, falling short of a whimper rested on Persephone's tongue. She knew not what to ask of him, she didn't know what she wanted or needed in so many words. It was her body now that ruled her head - not her tongue. How she could put such abstract feelings of heat and want into logical instruction she had no idea...
Shaking free her hands and reaching for him, Persephone's arms wound around Iason's neck, her mouth finding his and absorbing the soft moans that drew up from deep within his chest. The single word "You" broke from between her lips, as her eyes closed and she sunk into the connection, her tongue reaching for his to escalate the desire already burning between them...
The heat blooming over her skin only escalated with Iason's words of assurance... that she had only to gaze upon him to have him wishing to hold her. How such a thing was possible, she had no idea but she liked the sound of it. Over the weeks and near months that they had slowly come together in heart and body, Persephone had feared that all she brought to Iason was pain and suffering. That he had come to marry a would-be Queen and she had been forced to flee her own nation. That he had wished to marry a woman to become his baroness and now she dragged him back to Athenia. That her family had offered him riches for the union that were now no longer hers to offer. That she might be considered beautiful but yet had no experience in physical love... That she could rule a kingdom but not a household that he wished for...
In all ways that she could measure or logically analyse, she was the worst choice for Iason's wife. She offered him nothing that he could wish for. And yet, still he loved her. Still he claimed to want her. And now she knew that at least, in this most basic and perhaps archaic foundation of a relationship... she could at least spark him to desire... A single victory in a sea of changing circumstances and broken promises.
Her heart broke, in that moment. Grew large in her chest and threatened to choke her as that heat rose beneath her skin, energising her limbs in a way that burnt away the sleep and had her languid with desire over slumber. Each touch that Iason made across her arms, legs and waist seemed to be stoking the fires in her very bones, stealing breath from her lungs and thought from her mind.
As one of his palms found the back of her neck, the silk of her hair flowing over his fingers and down his arm, Persephone arched into his frame, as if her lips were simultaneously resisting his and begging him to come closer. Her hips naturally followed the line that he encouraged with his other hand, her hips coming flush to his and feeling proof of his manly need for her hard up against her lower belly.
It felt like the greatest of injustices. There was a point, an internal core of her that burned for his presence. That felt empty without it. And yet the strength of his ardour, that could quench such a need, was barely an inch away, kept at bay by the lean muscle and soft skin of her belly. Illogically, Persephone felt her pelvis push forwards again, into space that was not there, desperate to have the two meet...
Iason's hands left her hip then, only to reach up and tug at her chiton. Persephone lifted her arms, too emboldened by desire to be shy of her naked form as the silk was removed, up and over her head. It remained tangled about her arms, keeping them pinned up and back so that her body was offered in a tempting arch, her bare breasts against Iason's chest, peaks hardening against his skin. Persephone felt herself gasp at the touch of crisp hair against sensitive flesh.
As he asked her what she desired, so soft noise, falling short of a whimper rested on Persephone's tongue. She knew not what to ask of him, she didn't know what she wanted or needed in so many words. It was her body now that ruled her head - not her tongue. How she could put such abstract feelings of heat and want into logical instruction she had no idea...
Shaking free her hands and reaching for him, Persephone's arms wound around Iason's neck, her mouth finding his and absorbing the soft moans that drew up from deep within his chest. The single word "You" broke from between her lips, as her eyes closed and she sunk into the connection, her tongue reaching for his to escalate the desire already burning between them...
The way her body arched against his, pressing soft skin and smooth muscle against his own, as if she was offering herself up for him, was something he could have never dreamt of in his wildest fantasies. Never in his life had he imagined that his life could be like this, with a woman so beautiful wanting him just as much as he desired her, wanting and willing and asking for him. Perhaps because of a youth that had been spent in a court where he was not considered much of anything, a waste of looks if some could be believed, but Iason could never imagine that this was the life he could have.
As soon as the chiton was removed from her torso, the peaks of her breast brushing against his own, he could not resist the temptation to lower his mouth to them once more. Breathing in the scent of her as he rested his forehead between the small curve of her bosom, he managed only a moment before he gently closed his lips around one pert nipple. It had drawn such delightful sounds from her before, those he sought now to have repeated, his focus was only just pulled as the one word dropped from her lips. Unable to resist the pull of her as her arms slid around his neck, Iason lifted his head and found her kiss with a need he hadn't known he'd been holding back for so long.
Ever since they had first begun exploring the realms of pleasure available to them, it had been more and more difficult to keep his thoughts in the realm of propriety, to keep his hands to himself even in a chaste manner. Whatever had unlocked between them, he found it almost impossible to not be touching her in some way, even if it was a simple clasp of the hand or a touch to her waist, he wanted her close at all times, didn't want to ever let go. Perhaps he ought to start measuring those touches out so when they came together like this he felt less like a man drowning gasping for air. Each touch and press of their bodies as their limbs and lips tangled together felt like the deepest breath he could manage.
There was an unpracticed eagerness in his motions that he was unable to fully control, and as he leaned into the passion between them he had a moment of fear that he might accidentally crush her beneath him. To combat it he wrapped his arms around her and rolled to his back, drawing her over him and letting the dark silken curtain of her hair fall over them. The perfumed scent of her hair felt impossibly rich and warm, as if somehow it was one of the finest combination of oils and spices made solid and engulfing him in the aura. With her atop him he had less control, but less fear that his weight would harm her in any way, letting her settle in the cradle of his body as his hands slipped over the curve of her rear, one curling back around her waist as the other searched out the slick warmth between her legs that had made her cry out before.
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Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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The way her body arched against his, pressing soft skin and smooth muscle against his own, as if she was offering herself up for him, was something he could have never dreamt of in his wildest fantasies. Never in his life had he imagined that his life could be like this, with a woman so beautiful wanting him just as much as he desired her, wanting and willing and asking for him. Perhaps because of a youth that had been spent in a court where he was not considered much of anything, a waste of looks if some could be believed, but Iason could never imagine that this was the life he could have.
As soon as the chiton was removed from her torso, the peaks of her breast brushing against his own, he could not resist the temptation to lower his mouth to them once more. Breathing in the scent of her as he rested his forehead between the small curve of her bosom, he managed only a moment before he gently closed his lips around one pert nipple. It had drawn such delightful sounds from her before, those he sought now to have repeated, his focus was only just pulled as the one word dropped from her lips. Unable to resist the pull of her as her arms slid around his neck, Iason lifted his head and found her kiss with a need he hadn't known he'd been holding back for so long.
Ever since they had first begun exploring the realms of pleasure available to them, it had been more and more difficult to keep his thoughts in the realm of propriety, to keep his hands to himself even in a chaste manner. Whatever had unlocked between them, he found it almost impossible to not be touching her in some way, even if it was a simple clasp of the hand or a touch to her waist, he wanted her close at all times, didn't want to ever let go. Perhaps he ought to start measuring those touches out so when they came together like this he felt less like a man drowning gasping for air. Each touch and press of their bodies as their limbs and lips tangled together felt like the deepest breath he could manage.
There was an unpracticed eagerness in his motions that he was unable to fully control, and as he leaned into the passion between them he had a moment of fear that he might accidentally crush her beneath him. To combat it he wrapped his arms around her and rolled to his back, drawing her over him and letting the dark silken curtain of her hair fall over them. The perfumed scent of her hair felt impossibly rich and warm, as if somehow it was one of the finest combination of oils and spices made solid and engulfing him in the aura. With her atop him he had less control, but less fear that his weight would harm her in any way, letting her settle in the cradle of his body as his hands slipped over the curve of her rear, one curling back around her waist as the other searched out the slick warmth between her legs that had made her cry out before.
The way her body arched against his, pressing soft skin and smooth muscle against his own, as if she was offering herself up for him, was something he could have never dreamt of in his wildest fantasies. Never in his life had he imagined that his life could be like this, with a woman so beautiful wanting him just as much as he desired her, wanting and willing and asking for him. Perhaps because of a youth that had been spent in a court where he was not considered much of anything, a waste of looks if some could be believed, but Iason could never imagine that this was the life he could have.
As soon as the chiton was removed from her torso, the peaks of her breast brushing against his own, he could not resist the temptation to lower his mouth to them once more. Breathing in the scent of her as he rested his forehead between the small curve of her bosom, he managed only a moment before he gently closed his lips around one pert nipple. It had drawn such delightful sounds from her before, those he sought now to have repeated, his focus was only just pulled as the one word dropped from her lips. Unable to resist the pull of her as her arms slid around his neck, Iason lifted his head and found her kiss with a need he hadn't known he'd been holding back for so long.
Ever since they had first begun exploring the realms of pleasure available to them, it had been more and more difficult to keep his thoughts in the realm of propriety, to keep his hands to himself even in a chaste manner. Whatever had unlocked between them, he found it almost impossible to not be touching her in some way, even if it was a simple clasp of the hand or a touch to her waist, he wanted her close at all times, didn't want to ever let go. Perhaps he ought to start measuring those touches out so when they came together like this he felt less like a man drowning gasping for air. Each touch and press of their bodies as their limbs and lips tangled together felt like the deepest breath he could manage.
There was an unpracticed eagerness in his motions that he was unable to fully control, and as he leaned into the passion between them he had a moment of fear that he might accidentally crush her beneath him. To combat it he wrapped his arms around her and rolled to his back, drawing her over him and letting the dark silken curtain of her hair fall over them. The perfumed scent of her hair felt impossibly rich and warm, as if somehow it was one of the finest combination of oils and spices made solid and engulfing him in the aura. With her atop him he had less control, but less fear that his weight would harm her in any way, letting her settle in the cradle of his body as his hands slipped over the curve of her rear, one curling back around her waist as the other searched out the slick warmth between her legs that had made her cry out before.
If Iason sought a verbal acceptance of and pleasure in what he was doing to her when his lips settled upon her breast and suckled from its peak, then he was not to be disappointed as Persephone's breath caught. It was as if a bubble of air in her throat now restrained a moan, the noise beginning, stilling and then lost on a soft mew. Her head turned to the pillow beside her as if embarrassed by the noise but the parting of her lips and the whimpering exhale that followed were proof of her want for his touch.
When he then returned the kiss she offered, his passion for her escalating to a confidence she had not seen in him before, Persephone felt a spark of uncertainty, of nervousness. For their coupling had hurt the last time and now he joined her in an eagerness that may not be gentle.
But the thought was only fleeting. As if it were a small sliver of ice in her mind, it was instantly melted, boiled and evaporated by whatever Iason was doing to her mouth. As their lips found one another, and their tongues danced and clung together, Persephone's hands moved from his neck to his face, her hold more possessive now, surer of herself. She liked the contrast of his texture... a smooth cheekbone, a harsher jaw... liked how the beard that had grown in since Taengea was somehow both rough and smooth. It looked rugged, strong and yet was soft and silky if touched in the right way. Like him. The curled backs of her fingers drifted down to his throat and neck and then to his shoulders where her palm drifted to flatten across the honed pad of his upper chest. Her breath came ragged and harsh as their lips parted, only to claim each other over and again.
And then the world was spinning. A soft yelp of surprise left Persephone's lips as the kiss was momentarily broken and she was whirled by the strength of Iason's arms, scooped and moved until she was laying upon him. Her legs naturally fell apart, her knees falling to the mattress on either side of his hips and before she could worry about what such a shift meant, he was kissing her still, robbing her mind of logical thought and her heart of any doubts.
When Iason reached to touch her in that most intimate way just as he had in the fields of Meganea, Persephone's lips broke with his and gasped on a deep and throaty moan that was stilled by the tightening of her chest. As his fingertips lowered down between her thighs, they brushed against that part of her that was more sensitive than any she knew. The part that sent her body into peals of chiming bells when touched for too long and, as if in anticipation for what such a touch might bring, her spine jack-knifed up into its fine posture, upright upon his frame.
There, sitting astride him, Persephone's head had fallen back, her hair cascading down her back in a long and dark fall of silk and her lips had parted. Her eyes had been closed, her expression one of intensity and then, in a moment of self-consciousness, the spell was broken after just a second...
Her eyes shot open, her head came back up, her chin dipping towards her chest and she darted her gaze from right to left as if she somehow feared that there were others in the room about to witness her lack of comportment. Her lower lip - swollen and red from Iason's kisses - drew in and her teeth pressed down upon it in a gesture of restraint. When Iason's touch didn't cease, when he continued to feel at her softness, Persephone's spine curled and her shoulders drew in, as if she were embarrassed that such a simple gesture of fingertips could see her into revels of sensation. A lifetime of etiquette and poise, drilled into her mind and bones meant that she was slow to let go, to relax and accept the sexual nature of her own femininity. Yet, the soft moans and mews in the back of her throat did not cease, low and slipping from her lips with every breath. Her mouth opened once more on a gasp when she sensed a slickness, a wetness on his fingers that could have only come from her...
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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If Iason sought a verbal acceptance of and pleasure in what he was doing to her when his lips settled upon her breast and suckled from its peak, then he was not to be disappointed as Persephone's breath caught. It was as if a bubble of air in her throat now restrained a moan, the noise beginning, stilling and then lost on a soft mew. Her head turned to the pillow beside her as if embarrassed by the noise but the parting of her lips and the whimpering exhale that followed were proof of her want for his touch.
When he then returned the kiss she offered, his passion for her escalating to a confidence she had not seen in him before, Persephone felt a spark of uncertainty, of nervousness. For their coupling had hurt the last time and now he joined her in an eagerness that may not be gentle.
But the thought was only fleeting. As if it were a small sliver of ice in her mind, it was instantly melted, boiled and evaporated by whatever Iason was doing to her mouth. As their lips found one another, and their tongues danced and clung together, Persephone's hands moved from his neck to his face, her hold more possessive now, surer of herself. She liked the contrast of his texture... a smooth cheekbone, a harsher jaw... liked how the beard that had grown in since Taengea was somehow both rough and smooth. It looked rugged, strong and yet was soft and silky if touched in the right way. Like him. The curled backs of her fingers drifted down to his throat and neck and then to his shoulders where her palm drifted to flatten across the honed pad of his upper chest. Her breath came ragged and harsh as their lips parted, only to claim each other over and again.
And then the world was spinning. A soft yelp of surprise left Persephone's lips as the kiss was momentarily broken and she was whirled by the strength of Iason's arms, scooped and moved until she was laying upon him. Her legs naturally fell apart, her knees falling to the mattress on either side of his hips and before she could worry about what such a shift meant, he was kissing her still, robbing her mind of logical thought and her heart of any doubts.
When Iason reached to touch her in that most intimate way just as he had in the fields of Meganea, Persephone's lips broke with his and gasped on a deep and throaty moan that was stilled by the tightening of her chest. As his fingertips lowered down between her thighs, they brushed against that part of her that was more sensitive than any she knew. The part that sent her body into peals of chiming bells when touched for too long and, as if in anticipation for what such a touch might bring, her spine jack-knifed up into its fine posture, upright upon his frame.
There, sitting astride him, Persephone's head had fallen back, her hair cascading down her back in a long and dark fall of silk and her lips had parted. Her eyes had been closed, her expression one of intensity and then, in a moment of self-consciousness, the spell was broken after just a second...
Her eyes shot open, her head came back up, her chin dipping towards her chest and she darted her gaze from right to left as if she somehow feared that there were others in the room about to witness her lack of comportment. Her lower lip - swollen and red from Iason's kisses - drew in and her teeth pressed down upon it in a gesture of restraint. When Iason's touch didn't cease, when he continued to feel at her softness, Persephone's spine curled and her shoulders drew in, as if she were embarrassed that such a simple gesture of fingertips could see her into revels of sensation. A lifetime of etiquette and poise, drilled into her mind and bones meant that she was slow to let go, to relax and accept the sexual nature of her own femininity. Yet, the soft moans and mews in the back of her throat did not cease, low and slipping from her lips with every breath. Her mouth opened once more on a gasp when she sensed a slickness, a wetness on his fingers that could have only come from her...
If Iason sought a verbal acceptance of and pleasure in what he was doing to her when his lips settled upon her breast and suckled from its peak, then he was not to be disappointed as Persephone's breath caught. It was as if a bubble of air in her throat now restrained a moan, the noise beginning, stilling and then lost on a soft mew. Her head turned to the pillow beside her as if embarrassed by the noise but the parting of her lips and the whimpering exhale that followed were proof of her want for his touch.
When he then returned the kiss she offered, his passion for her escalating to a confidence she had not seen in him before, Persephone felt a spark of uncertainty, of nervousness. For their coupling had hurt the last time and now he joined her in an eagerness that may not be gentle.
But the thought was only fleeting. As if it were a small sliver of ice in her mind, it was instantly melted, boiled and evaporated by whatever Iason was doing to her mouth. As their lips found one another, and their tongues danced and clung together, Persephone's hands moved from his neck to his face, her hold more possessive now, surer of herself. She liked the contrast of his texture... a smooth cheekbone, a harsher jaw... liked how the beard that had grown in since Taengea was somehow both rough and smooth. It looked rugged, strong and yet was soft and silky if touched in the right way. Like him. The curled backs of her fingers drifted down to his throat and neck and then to his shoulders where her palm drifted to flatten across the honed pad of his upper chest. Her breath came ragged and harsh as their lips parted, only to claim each other over and again.
And then the world was spinning. A soft yelp of surprise left Persephone's lips as the kiss was momentarily broken and she was whirled by the strength of Iason's arms, scooped and moved until she was laying upon him. Her legs naturally fell apart, her knees falling to the mattress on either side of his hips and before she could worry about what such a shift meant, he was kissing her still, robbing her mind of logical thought and her heart of any doubts.
When Iason reached to touch her in that most intimate way just as he had in the fields of Meganea, Persephone's lips broke with his and gasped on a deep and throaty moan that was stilled by the tightening of her chest. As his fingertips lowered down between her thighs, they brushed against that part of her that was more sensitive than any she knew. The part that sent her body into peals of chiming bells when touched for too long and, as if in anticipation for what such a touch might bring, her spine jack-knifed up into its fine posture, upright upon his frame.
There, sitting astride him, Persephone's head had fallen back, her hair cascading down her back in a long and dark fall of silk and her lips had parted. Her eyes had been closed, her expression one of intensity and then, in a moment of self-consciousness, the spell was broken after just a second...
Her eyes shot open, her head came back up, her chin dipping towards her chest and she darted her gaze from right to left as if she somehow feared that there were others in the room about to witness her lack of comportment. Her lower lip - swollen and red from Iason's kisses - drew in and her teeth pressed down upon it in a gesture of restraint. When Iason's touch didn't cease, when he continued to feel at her softness, Persephone's spine curled and her shoulders drew in, as if she were embarrassed that such a simple gesture of fingertips could see her into revels of sensation. A lifetime of etiquette and poise, drilled into her mind and bones meant that she was slow to let go, to relax and accept the sexual nature of her own femininity. Yet, the soft moans and mews in the back of her throat did not cease, low and slipping from her lips with every breath. Her mouth opened once more on a gasp when she sensed a slickness, a wetness on his fingers that could have only come from her...
Everywhere her hands landed against him felt as if it were simply stoking the fire within, every part of him aching for her touch as if one part of his skin was jealous of where her palms and fingertips brushed. From her brush through his beard and down his throat and chest he had never felt so...wanted. It felt impossible for her to desire him just as much yet every motion and sound only stirred and confirmed that it was true. If he could have given up a need to breathe, to think, to feel anything except for her, he would have done so gladly without another moment's thought.
For all her slight frame as she landed atop him, legs straddling his waist as he pulled her against him it was as if she was the perfect weight to make him feel completely grounded. Yet at the same time he was certain they were flying, soaring above everything and everyone as their passion took wing. He was certain there was no sight so beautiful as when she arched her back and allowed her head to fall, the way her body seemed to open and embrace all at once, as if she was a goddess come to bless him. His on jaw had gone slack at the sight, pale eyes dark with lust as he watched the unrestrained moment of pleasure.
As before though, it could not last forever, the instinct of princess and queen kicking back in and overtaking the woman within. She was no less beautiful like this, only different, more vulnerable in a way that made him want to wrap around her and shield her from all that could harm her. When her brief moment of truth did not return, he paused the attentions of his fingers, the slickness of her combined with each breathy sound betraying her own desire. Instead, he sat himself up in a swift motion, drawing her against his chest so he had no fear of breaking her, yet was still able to hold her close.
The change in angle had the pressure of her hips firmly against his manhood, and he had to take a deep breath to keep from pushing too far too soon. Pressing his lips to hers in a slower, softer, gesture, a promise that no harm would come to her in his arms, Iason wound one arm tightly around her as the other returned to seek her softest part again. There was something heady in giving pleasure, something affirming that he was not entirely useless as a lover. He had few doubts about most things, but until her, until this, he had always been afraid that he would be lacking as a husband and lover, and with each mewling cry he was able to draw from her his resolve and confidence grew further.
In this new position there was also ample opportunity for his lips to explore her chest again as well, his arm solid about her waist as the scratch of his beard ran over impossibly smooth skin. She was darker in tone than he, her time at the Dimitrou lands and people of the wilds and woods instead of marble and stone had given her an even richer color. Once again his mouth played against the soft swells of her chest, teeth grazing slightly over more sensitive areas as he distracted himself from each motion, eager to learn more about her body and what made her ache for him as much as he did her.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Everywhere her hands landed against him felt as if it were simply stoking the fire within, every part of him aching for her touch as if one part of his skin was jealous of where her palms and fingertips brushed. From her brush through his beard and down his throat and chest he had never felt so...wanted. It felt impossible for her to desire him just as much yet every motion and sound only stirred and confirmed that it was true. If he could have given up a need to breathe, to think, to feel anything except for her, he would have done so gladly without another moment's thought.
For all her slight frame as she landed atop him, legs straddling his waist as he pulled her against him it was as if she was the perfect weight to make him feel completely grounded. Yet at the same time he was certain they were flying, soaring above everything and everyone as their passion took wing. He was certain there was no sight so beautiful as when she arched her back and allowed her head to fall, the way her body seemed to open and embrace all at once, as if she was a goddess come to bless him. His on jaw had gone slack at the sight, pale eyes dark with lust as he watched the unrestrained moment of pleasure.
As before though, it could not last forever, the instinct of princess and queen kicking back in and overtaking the woman within. She was no less beautiful like this, only different, more vulnerable in a way that made him want to wrap around her and shield her from all that could harm her. When her brief moment of truth did not return, he paused the attentions of his fingers, the slickness of her combined with each breathy sound betraying her own desire. Instead, he sat himself up in a swift motion, drawing her against his chest so he had no fear of breaking her, yet was still able to hold her close.
The change in angle had the pressure of her hips firmly against his manhood, and he had to take a deep breath to keep from pushing too far too soon. Pressing his lips to hers in a slower, softer, gesture, a promise that no harm would come to her in his arms, Iason wound one arm tightly around her as the other returned to seek her softest part again. There was something heady in giving pleasure, something affirming that he was not entirely useless as a lover. He had few doubts about most things, but until her, until this, he had always been afraid that he would be lacking as a husband and lover, and with each mewling cry he was able to draw from her his resolve and confidence grew further.
In this new position there was also ample opportunity for his lips to explore her chest again as well, his arm solid about her waist as the scratch of his beard ran over impossibly smooth skin. She was darker in tone than he, her time at the Dimitrou lands and people of the wilds and woods instead of marble and stone had given her an even richer color. Once again his mouth played against the soft swells of her chest, teeth grazing slightly over more sensitive areas as he distracted himself from each motion, eager to learn more about her body and what made her ache for him as much as he did her.
Everywhere her hands landed against him felt as if it were simply stoking the fire within, every part of him aching for her touch as if one part of his skin was jealous of where her palms and fingertips brushed. From her brush through his beard and down his throat and chest he had never felt so...wanted. It felt impossible for her to desire him just as much yet every motion and sound only stirred and confirmed that it was true. If he could have given up a need to breathe, to think, to feel anything except for her, he would have done so gladly without another moment's thought.
For all her slight frame as she landed atop him, legs straddling his waist as he pulled her against him it was as if she was the perfect weight to make him feel completely grounded. Yet at the same time he was certain they were flying, soaring above everything and everyone as their passion took wing. He was certain there was no sight so beautiful as when she arched her back and allowed her head to fall, the way her body seemed to open and embrace all at once, as if she was a goddess come to bless him. His on jaw had gone slack at the sight, pale eyes dark with lust as he watched the unrestrained moment of pleasure.
As before though, it could not last forever, the instinct of princess and queen kicking back in and overtaking the woman within. She was no less beautiful like this, only different, more vulnerable in a way that made him want to wrap around her and shield her from all that could harm her. When her brief moment of truth did not return, he paused the attentions of his fingers, the slickness of her combined with each breathy sound betraying her own desire. Instead, he sat himself up in a swift motion, drawing her against his chest so he had no fear of breaking her, yet was still able to hold her close.
The change in angle had the pressure of her hips firmly against his manhood, and he had to take a deep breath to keep from pushing too far too soon. Pressing his lips to hers in a slower, softer, gesture, a promise that no harm would come to her in his arms, Iason wound one arm tightly around her as the other returned to seek her softest part again. There was something heady in giving pleasure, something affirming that he was not entirely useless as a lover. He had few doubts about most things, but until her, until this, he had always been afraid that he would be lacking as a husband and lover, and with each mewling cry he was able to draw from her his resolve and confidence grew further.
In this new position there was also ample opportunity for his lips to explore her chest again as well, his arm solid about her waist as the scratch of his beard ran over impossibly smooth skin. She was darker in tone than he, her time at the Dimitrou lands and people of the wilds and woods instead of marble and stone had given her an even richer color. Once again his mouth played against the soft swells of her chest, teeth grazing slightly over more sensitive areas as he distracted himself from each motion, eager to learn more about her body and what made her ache for him as much as he did her.
As if he could sense her nervousness; the self-consciousness that boiled up when it wasn't wanted and overtook her muscles and created for her a shy temper, Iason lifted himself from the bed. His hand left her secrets and his arms came around her in a protective embrace that was so desperately wanted and loved and yet was almost unbearably hot. Thinking that they needed to separate, that the beading of sweat that she could feel on the back of her neck, and the small of her back came from the heat of their closeness... it took a moment before she realised her mistake. The heat wasn't between them, sending their skin hot and their insides hotter. It was their hearts and cores... what was within them, that had them both panting and their skin turning slick.
As Iason moved to sit upright, Persephone naturally settled more closely upon his lap, falling to the cradle of his pelvis. His legs stretched out behind her, and hers curled around him. She could feel the hard and velvety soft mass beneath her… feel her weight swaying and rocking upon Iason’s most male piece of his form. It was too dark in what little of the dawning sunlight could break through the shades over the window. She couldn't see down between their bodies. But she was thankful. For any appearance of her femininity, of his manhood, or the hair that guarded them both... any visual of them pressing together would only send the sensation of it higher. And she wasn't entirely sure how much more she could burn.
As a few strands of her hair stuck to her neck, Persephone moved to kiss Iason again, wanting to sip from his mouth as if she were somehow addicted to the velvety softness of his lips. As if his kiss was all that could quench the fires that roared beneath her skin. Yet, when she did claim his lips her body only shook more. This time, she was spared the heat as he turned his face and sought the skin of her breasts instead. Unsure of but not questioning his desire for something so useless to a grown man, Persephone did not argue. She wished to pleasure him as he did her and if this was what he sought to find that pleasure...
As his lips drew down upon one of her peaks once more, sucking and rolling the tip with his tongue, Persephone realised quickly that he sought not to pleasure himself, but her. Something strange... a tugging sensation… from her breast to her core, deep within, seemed to pulse with every draw of Iason's lips. She felt the muscles of her womanhood tighten in a sense of need and desire, drawing on the emptiness that filled her. Her eyes flung wide and she gasped as Iason's hand found her folds once more, this time causing a soft noise of succulent wetness to merge with the harsh sounds of their breath.
It was then, as his lips pulled upon one sensation and sparked another deep within, that his fingers sought to escalate, that Persephone first made a noise that she had not yet offered him. Her cry was a sort of strangled moan that was sharp to the ear and deeply unladylike and her cheeks immediately flamed in awkwardness. Her lips pressed together as her knees tightened on his sides and she murmured without thinking...
"Apologies..."
She hadn't meant to make the weird noise and had no idea if it was normal or not to make such a sound... the last time she had found a blissful release - there in that field, several weeks ago - she had been on the brink of such a noise but bitten her lip, held it in and retained her dignity... Now such a thing seemed gone forever.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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As if he could sense her nervousness; the self-consciousness that boiled up when it wasn't wanted and overtook her muscles and created for her a shy temper, Iason lifted himself from the bed. His hand left her secrets and his arms came around her in a protective embrace that was so desperately wanted and loved and yet was almost unbearably hot. Thinking that they needed to separate, that the beading of sweat that she could feel on the back of her neck, and the small of her back came from the heat of their closeness... it took a moment before she realised her mistake. The heat wasn't between them, sending their skin hot and their insides hotter. It was their hearts and cores... what was within them, that had them both panting and their skin turning slick.
As Iason moved to sit upright, Persephone naturally settled more closely upon his lap, falling to the cradle of his pelvis. His legs stretched out behind her, and hers curled around him. She could feel the hard and velvety soft mass beneath her… feel her weight swaying and rocking upon Iason’s most male piece of his form. It was too dark in what little of the dawning sunlight could break through the shades over the window. She couldn't see down between their bodies. But she was thankful. For any appearance of her femininity, of his manhood, or the hair that guarded them both... any visual of them pressing together would only send the sensation of it higher. And she wasn't entirely sure how much more she could burn.
As a few strands of her hair stuck to her neck, Persephone moved to kiss Iason again, wanting to sip from his mouth as if she were somehow addicted to the velvety softness of his lips. As if his kiss was all that could quench the fires that roared beneath her skin. Yet, when she did claim his lips her body only shook more. This time, she was spared the heat as he turned his face and sought the skin of her breasts instead. Unsure of but not questioning his desire for something so useless to a grown man, Persephone did not argue. She wished to pleasure him as he did her and if this was what he sought to find that pleasure...
As his lips drew down upon one of her peaks once more, sucking and rolling the tip with his tongue, Persephone realised quickly that he sought not to pleasure himself, but her. Something strange... a tugging sensation… from her breast to her core, deep within, seemed to pulse with every draw of Iason's lips. She felt the muscles of her womanhood tighten in a sense of need and desire, drawing on the emptiness that filled her. Her eyes flung wide and she gasped as Iason's hand found her folds once more, this time causing a soft noise of succulent wetness to merge with the harsh sounds of their breath.
It was then, as his lips pulled upon one sensation and sparked another deep within, that his fingers sought to escalate, that Persephone first made a noise that she had not yet offered him. Her cry was a sort of strangled moan that was sharp to the ear and deeply unladylike and her cheeks immediately flamed in awkwardness. Her lips pressed together as her knees tightened on his sides and she murmured without thinking...
"Apologies..."
She hadn't meant to make the weird noise and had no idea if it was normal or not to make such a sound... the last time she had found a blissful release - there in that field, several weeks ago - she had been on the brink of such a noise but bitten her lip, held it in and retained her dignity... Now such a thing seemed gone forever.
As if he could sense her nervousness; the self-consciousness that boiled up when it wasn't wanted and overtook her muscles and created for her a shy temper, Iason lifted himself from the bed. His hand left her secrets and his arms came around her in a protective embrace that was so desperately wanted and loved and yet was almost unbearably hot. Thinking that they needed to separate, that the beading of sweat that she could feel on the back of her neck, and the small of her back came from the heat of their closeness... it took a moment before she realised her mistake. The heat wasn't between them, sending their skin hot and their insides hotter. It was their hearts and cores... what was within them, that had them both panting and their skin turning slick.
As Iason moved to sit upright, Persephone naturally settled more closely upon his lap, falling to the cradle of his pelvis. His legs stretched out behind her, and hers curled around him. She could feel the hard and velvety soft mass beneath her… feel her weight swaying and rocking upon Iason’s most male piece of his form. It was too dark in what little of the dawning sunlight could break through the shades over the window. She couldn't see down between their bodies. But she was thankful. For any appearance of her femininity, of his manhood, or the hair that guarded them both... any visual of them pressing together would only send the sensation of it higher. And she wasn't entirely sure how much more she could burn.
As a few strands of her hair stuck to her neck, Persephone moved to kiss Iason again, wanting to sip from his mouth as if she were somehow addicted to the velvety softness of his lips. As if his kiss was all that could quench the fires that roared beneath her skin. Yet, when she did claim his lips her body only shook more. This time, she was spared the heat as he turned his face and sought the skin of her breasts instead. Unsure of but not questioning his desire for something so useless to a grown man, Persephone did not argue. She wished to pleasure him as he did her and if this was what he sought to find that pleasure...
As his lips drew down upon one of her peaks once more, sucking and rolling the tip with his tongue, Persephone realised quickly that he sought not to pleasure himself, but her. Something strange... a tugging sensation… from her breast to her core, deep within, seemed to pulse with every draw of Iason's lips. She felt the muscles of her womanhood tighten in a sense of need and desire, drawing on the emptiness that filled her. Her eyes flung wide and she gasped as Iason's hand found her folds once more, this time causing a soft noise of succulent wetness to merge with the harsh sounds of their breath.
It was then, as his lips pulled upon one sensation and sparked another deep within, that his fingers sought to escalate, that Persephone first made a noise that she had not yet offered him. Her cry was a sort of strangled moan that was sharp to the ear and deeply unladylike and her cheeks immediately flamed in awkwardness. Her lips pressed together as her knees tightened on his sides and she murmured without thinking...
"Apologies..."
She hadn't meant to make the weird noise and had no idea if it was normal or not to make such a sound... the last time she had found a blissful release - there in that field, several weeks ago - she had been on the brink of such a noise but bitten her lip, held it in and retained her dignity... Now such a thing seemed gone forever.
With every breath and touch it was growing more and more difficult to control the heat that consumed him, sweat from both of them dripping along their skin that he chased with his tongue without thinking. The salt taste of the droplets mingled with that of her skin and he had to once again pull focus back to the task of his hand, gritting his teeth as she cried out and lifting his lips back to brush barely against her own. The way her legs tightened against him, and the expression on her face showed that she was falling out of the moment again, another shift was needed to bring her back to him.
"Never apologize.." He barely recognized his own voice when he spoke, the tone so rough and almost strained with desire, closer to a growl than his usual even tenor. "Not for that. Or any sound." Perhaps she didn't realize what she did to him, with every little moan he was spurred even further, given the encouragement to proceed, each cry and whimper made him desire her more, want everything they could give one anther without holding back.
In his heated haze, he wondered how much shifting they would need in order to join here and now, whether they were ready or how she would be most comfortable. The awkwardness of her stance had him concerned that perhaps it was all too much, and this time as his free hand lifted to her cheek the touch was gentler again. His lips against hers were slower, drinking her in and savoring every motion, the fingers brushing against her center finding a lighter pressure and easier pattern, wondering if perhaps it had just all been too rough. If he'd been in a better state of mind he would have likely given a speech of some sort about how she shouldn't hide anything from him, shouldn't think she couldn't ask him for anything she desired. As it was, he could only hope if he did anything wrong she would say something.
"I like hearing you.." There, that admission could perhaps ease the way, even if she was not able to fully release the anxiety she held. They had the rest of their lives to learn one another and become more and more comfortable as time went by. This was only their second coupling, second ever for both of them, and there were no expectations at least on his end for anything to be absolutely perfect. Whatever happened happened, and he could only hope there was mutual pleasure taken from the act.
A throaty sound of his own escaped when she shifted against him in a way that sent shocks of pleasure through him, desperate for the feeling of being joined with her properly. Memory of the warm slick tightness enveloping him drew him to lift her hips slightly, aligning them so that his manhood pressed to her entrance. All she needed to do was sink down slightly, to make that final move that would bring them together again. Looking up at her with a gaze that somehow mingled adoration, lust, and a wild heat, Iason felt as if he was holding his breath as he waited for her next move.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
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With every breath and touch it was growing more and more difficult to control the heat that consumed him, sweat from both of them dripping along their skin that he chased with his tongue without thinking. The salt taste of the droplets mingled with that of her skin and he had to once again pull focus back to the task of his hand, gritting his teeth as she cried out and lifting his lips back to brush barely against her own. The way her legs tightened against him, and the expression on her face showed that she was falling out of the moment again, another shift was needed to bring her back to him.
"Never apologize.." He barely recognized his own voice when he spoke, the tone so rough and almost strained with desire, closer to a growl than his usual even tenor. "Not for that. Or any sound." Perhaps she didn't realize what she did to him, with every little moan he was spurred even further, given the encouragement to proceed, each cry and whimper made him desire her more, want everything they could give one anther without holding back.
In his heated haze, he wondered how much shifting they would need in order to join here and now, whether they were ready or how she would be most comfortable. The awkwardness of her stance had him concerned that perhaps it was all too much, and this time as his free hand lifted to her cheek the touch was gentler again. His lips against hers were slower, drinking her in and savoring every motion, the fingers brushing against her center finding a lighter pressure and easier pattern, wondering if perhaps it had just all been too rough. If he'd been in a better state of mind he would have likely given a speech of some sort about how she shouldn't hide anything from him, shouldn't think she couldn't ask him for anything she desired. As it was, he could only hope if he did anything wrong she would say something.
"I like hearing you.." There, that admission could perhaps ease the way, even if she was not able to fully release the anxiety she held. They had the rest of their lives to learn one another and become more and more comfortable as time went by. This was only their second coupling, second ever for both of them, and there were no expectations at least on his end for anything to be absolutely perfect. Whatever happened happened, and he could only hope there was mutual pleasure taken from the act.
A throaty sound of his own escaped when she shifted against him in a way that sent shocks of pleasure through him, desperate for the feeling of being joined with her properly. Memory of the warm slick tightness enveloping him drew him to lift her hips slightly, aligning them so that his manhood pressed to her entrance. All she needed to do was sink down slightly, to make that final move that would bring them together again. Looking up at her with a gaze that somehow mingled adoration, lust, and a wild heat, Iason felt as if he was holding his breath as he waited for her next move.
With every breath and touch it was growing more and more difficult to control the heat that consumed him, sweat from both of them dripping along their skin that he chased with his tongue without thinking. The salt taste of the droplets mingled with that of her skin and he had to once again pull focus back to the task of his hand, gritting his teeth as she cried out and lifting his lips back to brush barely against her own. The way her legs tightened against him, and the expression on her face showed that she was falling out of the moment again, another shift was needed to bring her back to him.
"Never apologize.." He barely recognized his own voice when he spoke, the tone so rough and almost strained with desire, closer to a growl than his usual even tenor. "Not for that. Or any sound." Perhaps she didn't realize what she did to him, with every little moan he was spurred even further, given the encouragement to proceed, each cry and whimper made him desire her more, want everything they could give one anther without holding back.
In his heated haze, he wondered how much shifting they would need in order to join here and now, whether they were ready or how she would be most comfortable. The awkwardness of her stance had him concerned that perhaps it was all too much, and this time as his free hand lifted to her cheek the touch was gentler again. His lips against hers were slower, drinking her in and savoring every motion, the fingers brushing against her center finding a lighter pressure and easier pattern, wondering if perhaps it had just all been too rough. If he'd been in a better state of mind he would have likely given a speech of some sort about how she shouldn't hide anything from him, shouldn't think she couldn't ask him for anything she desired. As it was, he could only hope if he did anything wrong she would say something.
"I like hearing you.." There, that admission could perhaps ease the way, even if she was not able to fully release the anxiety she held. They had the rest of their lives to learn one another and become more and more comfortable as time went by. This was only their second coupling, second ever for both of them, and there were no expectations at least on his end for anything to be absolutely perfect. Whatever happened happened, and he could only hope there was mutual pleasure taken from the act.
A throaty sound of his own escaped when she shifted against him in a way that sent shocks of pleasure through him, desperate for the feeling of being joined with her properly. Memory of the warm slick tightness enveloping him drew him to lift her hips slightly, aligning them so that his manhood pressed to her entrance. All she needed to do was sink down slightly, to make that final move that would bring them together again. Looking up at her with a gaze that somehow mingled adoration, lust, and a wild heat, Iason felt as if he was holding his breath as he waited for her next move.