wiedzminka | ❧ IC INBOX: Abraxas

[ She twitches, mouth falling open, her chest rising with the deep inhale. Her nipples perk up beneath his coaxing touch, soft pink against her skin, paler beneath the places where her clothes always cover her body. Despite her time in the sun since coming to the Free Cities, Ciri hasn't tanned much visibly, but if he looks closely, he'll see the transition, just noticeable. The blush makes her freckles stand out more, scattered over the top of her chest above her breasts, a dusting on each shoulder. ]

Please. [ she breathes, leaving no doubt she'd like that very much. ]

[He notices, of course. Where she is paler, contrasted against where her skin has seen the sun. Where every freckle lies dusted across her shoulders, small details that seem all but impossible to not fixate upon when they’re so fresh in his eyes.

He wants to commit it to memory. Wants to be able to recall this moment long after it’s over. He looks at her—please, she tells him, and that sends a warm thrill careening down into his lower belly yet again.

Sephiroth certainly won’t make her beg for it.

He dips down, planting kisses right below the collarbone, trailing lower. Again and again, until his mouth hovers just above the bud of a nipple and he, too, seals his lips around it — kissing gently, first. Tongue laving in a warm press.]

[ Her arms lift just enough so she can slide her hands into his hair, following the way he moves downward. The tickle of warm breath against her skin coaxes little goosebumps in its wake, and Ciri shivers, the low moan catching in her throat.

Her blunt nails press into his scalp. The small of her back arches, thighs squeezing around either side of his leg where she's still keeping him trapped. ]

[He can’t see how her body contours into a longer line when she raises her arms, but he can feel her moving beneath him all the same — the way her thighs grip him, and the warmth radiating above. Sephiroth shifts in turn, raising his thigh up, brushing against the apex between her legs.

All the while, his mouth becomes less teasing and more purposeful. His tongue moves in little circles around her nipple, and eventually, the line of his teeth nip with just enough pressure to tease out a response.]

[ That gets a stronger reaction out of her, the pressure between her legs and that of his teeth on her breast. Ciri gasps, just barely voiced, a high noise caught in her throat. Her fingers tighten in his hair, but she's not pulling him away in the slightest -- encouraging, even.

She arches again, digs her heel into the side of the bed for leverage, and grinds down on him, squeezing with her thighs. ]

...harder.

[ It comes out breathy, more plea than command. ]

Touch me... more.

[Her fingers crook tighter into his scalp, encouragement that he’d be remiss to ignore, never mind the fact that he rather likes the sensation. His teeth pinch down a little harder, his hands want to wander elsewhere — Touch me more, she says, and Sephiroth only wants to comply.

Again, his leg rucks up harder between her legs, but then eases back in what leeway her grasp allows him. Sephiroth slips a hand between them, cupping at her, feeling the warmth rising, frustratingly blocked by a layer of cloth.

But it’s nice to know the contour and heat of her beneath his fingertips. His other hand braces at her hip, thumbing at the band of her pants. The question is not spoken, but so very easily implied — Off?]

[ She hisses, pulling her lower lip between her teeth, trembling under his touch. Her hips roll up, a shaky breath escaping in a grunt. ]

You don't know... how buttons work?

[ It's difficult to tell if she's teasing or annoyed, when she reaches down to yank at the front of her high-waisted trousers, buttoned up the front. It doesn't seem to occur to her he's asking for permission, though later, when she can think more clearly, she'll probably appreciate it. ]

[Even now, her quip—whether sincere or joking—still manages to amuse him a little. Sephiroth arches a brow despite everything, his mouth curved into a smile; yes, that was an ask for permission rather than a showing of incompetence when it comes to unbuttoning a garment. But he’ll not argue the point once she has the front of her trousers unbuttoned or otherwise loosened enough for him to slip long fingers down the open vee. Maybe slipping his touch right beneath her undergarments, seeking the warmth and slickness between her legs, will ease her impatience.

That, or stoke a fire in them both, already running hot.]

I hope you can give me more credit than that, Ciri.

[ Yes, that does seem to curb the sharpness of her tongue. Even asking for it, she seems somehow surprised, like the touch is unexpected. Like she didn't quite know what would happen, or didn't think he'd give it to her with so little in the way of demanding or pleading.

His fingers are comparatively cool against the eager heat of her skin, send a shiver through her with an accompanying, barely-voiced gasp, and a toss of her head. Her eyes slide shut. ]

Say my name again. [ It tumbles out, before she's even realizing she said it aloud, only a whisper. ]

[A request like that has him swallowing down a low sound of accedence, as though that might dull the reaction it sends through his body, a flare of anticipation. The sight of her throwing her head back like that, the line of her jaw, it makes him want to press his lips along that contour again and again. But the desire to see her reaction wins out, only barely, and he keeps his gaze fixed on Ciri from above as he eases his fingers into movement. Slow, experimental -- or maybe via a more impatient lens: teasing.

She's slick, and warm against his touch. Sephiroth slides the whole length of the underside of one finger against her folds.]

Ciri.

[His tone has some gravel to it, now.]

You're perfect like this, Ciri.

[ Her breath catches, stuck in her throat for a few moments before she remembers to exhale in a shaky moan. She's getting used to it still, the feeling of someone else's touch -- it's been some time.

The way he says her name convinces her more than the sensation even, feels more intimate somehow than his touch. The low rasp of his voice is a spark through her whole body, a caress that sends a shiver through her limbs.

Ciri rolls her hips into his hand with another throaty whimper. ]

Y-you can keep going... [ she suggests, almost pleads, but it isn't a command. There is a want in her voice, verging on desperation, quivering anticipation in each movement. She melts under his touch, lets him lead in a way he might not be used to from her. This is uncharted territory, and she lets him forge his path, to see what he will do. Not sure quite yet what she wants, except more, of him and of this and hearing him want her. ]

[She will have that in spades, his want for her. It overrides even his own impatience making him feel constrained and too-warm in his own trousers, just background noise to the way he watches her reaction, listens to the sounds she makes. Sephiroth only dimly realizes the he wishes to please her more than anything else; but his instinct and body fills in those empty spaces between, moving at her encouragement.

In this case, it means moving his fingers with a little more enthusiasm, just a little more pressure, drawing his touch up higher to graze against her clit. But she appears to react to his voice, too, and he finds the words spilling out without really thinking about them.]

Do you want my fingers inside you? Do you want my mouth? Or do you like this?

[He draws his touch in little circles now, never mind if this hinders a reply.]

[ Her hips twitch, and shudder when he focuses there. Voice thick with desire, she answers breathlessly, embarrassment giving way increasingly to need. ]

All of it.

[ She blurts out without thinking, before her brain seems to catch up at least a little with her tongue. ]

I want-- to feel your mouth on me.

[ If that's an option, if he's really asking her to choose-- ]

[He could give her all of it. Spend time moving from one to the other, making certain she’s satisfied with it all in the interim — but maybe, at this point, taking too much time is just torturous for them both. The increasing need flares in parallel, she chooses, and Sephiroth obliges.

His hand moves from between her legs, but only so far as to deal with her trousers, easing them down her body until they’ll no longer be in the way. When she’s exposed to him, he shifts down to give himself room, but then dips lower to kiss at an inside thigh as he encourages her to part her legs for him. She feels warm beneath his lips.]

Like this?

[(No, he knows not completely like this. His mouth will end up elsewhere.)]

[ Ciri may have forgotten about her clothing, and his tugging at her trousers suddenly reminds her she's still partially trapped by them. It's only a few moments to help him peel them the rest of the way down her legs, where he'll have to do a little more tugging and fenagling to get them untucked from her boots, which she doesn't bother kicking off. Ciri scoots up a bit further on the bed, letting her legs continue to dangle off the side but giving him more room. Spreading her thighs with a shiver of anticipation to let him get between them.

It's a little cold -- it is still winter, even in the desert -- but despite the goosebumps prickling her thighs, she doesn't seem to notice. It might be more excitement than the chill. Almost certainly is, when his lips touch the inside of her thigh, and she shivers again, entranced by the feeling.

Her face, at least, is hot enough. Probably, it's a good thing they're being pushed along at least a little, even if she hasn't fully realized the effects -- or the feeling of being suddenly so bare like this, somewhere entirely strange, would be a little more alarming. As it is, she can't find the will to care more than a mild flutter of embarrassment, the sort that's on the same side as excitement more than shame. ]

Mm-hm. That... feels good. [ Ciri mumbles, encouraging, without demanding more yet.

Her legs splay wider, knees lifted, and she balances the heels of her boots on the very edge of the mattress.

Sephiroth will find her thighs and lower legs slashed with old scars, and perhaps a few newer ones. Long stripes from blades, in various severity. Jagged, raised marks from claws and teeth.

And high on the inside of her left thigh, a tattoo of a single red rose. ]

[Without the little push that bolsters them to a certain degree, too much awareness would sink in. The foreign space, belonging to people they don’t know; the situation just outside. Sephiroth’s willingness to explore her body in ways belying a confidence that wouldn’t be present otherwise.

But they can overthink it later. He certainly isn’t overthinking it now. After finagling off her trousers (the boots remain), after the kiss plush against her thigh, he takes in the sight she’s displaying to him. The scars that tell stories he’s not privy to, marked against her skin, some that look newer than others.

And, of course, the marking of a rose tattoo on her inner left thigh more poignant than the rest. Sephiroth can’t help himself — he draws the pad of his thumb against the design.]

And what's this?

[ She doesn't have to look to know what he means, when he touches it and she remembers what is there. So few have seen it, let alone touched it, since--

Ciri lets out a soft noise, this time not of pleasure. An uncertain, shaky breath, just barely voiced. ]

A memory.

[ She moves her leg, not quite away, but perhaps in a small attempt to pull his attention from it for now. Before the uncertainty can take hold fully, Ciri reaches down to brush her fingertips against his hair. Keep herself in the moment. ]

I don't want to think about the past when you're here with me now.

Edited 2023-01-18 22:16 (UTC)

[He's not so curious that the signs of her reticence go unnoticed. Though it means that there's a story behind the tattoo—a someone more than a something, he wonders?—the way she subtly shifts her leg away, her fingers redirecting focus and sensation into his hair, is more than enough to shelve the conversation for now. If it’s a memory she ever wishes to share.

He hums in accedence, moving his hand away, sliding it up to rest on her hip. Instead, he turns his head to place a kiss on the opposite thigh, then rests his cheek against the warmth of her skin, just feeling her fingertips for now.]

Only the present, then. No memories for now.

[ Any worry she had that he might push, or maybe even lose interest, dissipates immediately with the surety of his response, the way he redirects his attention. Ciri breathes out, relaxing again and only then realizing how tense her chest had felt.

Her fingers brush through his hair, nails scratching gently. ]

Yes. That sounds very good.

[He takes only a moment longer to enjoy the sensation of her nails, wondering vaguely what it might feel like to have her grip his hair a little tighter--

But, well. Maybe he'll know sooner rather than later. For now, he dips his head up, gazes at her from this angle, and shifts forward just enough to graze his lips more against her inside thigh, perilously close to that heated spot between her legs.

Yet he's already slowed them down, and that impatience is burgeoning again, telling him that he doesn't want to make either of them wait for much longer. He brings his mouth against her folds, at first kissing as though he was kissing her thigh just a moment ago. His tongue laves, though, a half-moment later, seeking to taste her.]

Mmh--

[ Ciri makes a muffled noise, biting her lip. Her head falls back again, eyes closed; her knees and thighs open wider.

The feeling of him between her legs makes her heart race, that warmth of his breath when he nears raising goosebumps along her inner thighs. She shivers, and gasps again when his tongue follows, soft and slick and hot. He'll find her already wet for him, flushed a dark pink.

The heat travels up, fills her belly, floods her face. That vulnerable, exposed feeling is almost too much, embarrassing and a little scary, but exciting too. ]

Edited 2023-01-25 21:45 (UTC)

[She’s already so wet, and that excites him, too. Sephiroth hums a sound of approval, one she would feel as much as hear, and he can only assume the fact she’s splaying herself wider for him is an urging for more.

He slides his arms beneath the arch of her legs, whatever leeway she gives him, so he can touch, too. Fingers moving up her sides, caressing in-time with the movement of his mouth — another long, lingering kiss, then the trail of his tongue moving up just a bit higher.

One more, pressing plush against the bud of her clit. It’s light, wanting to tease and gauge her reaction more than anything else for now.]

[ When she realizes what he wants, Ciri lifts her hips slightly, just enough to allow him to get his arms under her legs. The additional touch is welcomed eagerly, makes her feel more secure somehow-- not just her lying on the bed allowing him to put his mouth on her, but something more entangled, more intimate. He'll be able to feel her body twitch in response to his ministrations, waist arching beneath his hands. There are scars on her sides, the most prominent a slash as from a sword just above her right hip, and another on the left side along her ribs, both long-healed, pale and raised.

She lets out another noise when he tongues her clit, a startled little inhale, sharp enough it's almost a squeak. ]

Th-there--

[ As if he doesn't know. It spills out of her involuntarily, as if afraid he'll move away. ]

[His fingertips glide against the lines of marred skin where old scars lay, tracing their path where he can. Were he more focused on them, he might be able to tell from the shape of it alone what kind of wound it once was, the bite of steel piercing skin.

But he isn’t. Sephiroth is far more attentive to her reactions, the way she angles her hips just so, pressed up harder against his tongue. There, she says, and as always, he is quick to comply — he laves against her clit for a moment more, before his lips then seal over her in a sucking kiss.

His heart thumps so hard in his chest he practically wonders if she can hear it, too.]

Fffuck-- [ she swears under her breath, hips jumping.

Her fingers tighten in his hair, holding on hard to a fistful close to his scalp as her breathing escalates, faster and louder. ]

❧ IC INBOX: Abraxas

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