[Perhaps there was something to the allure of the forbidden- or at least, to the Heavily Cautioned Against. The feeling of his own impatience was unexpected- and not of the sort that wanted to get things over quickly, but that he only wanted more of this, to take as much as he was allowed. But for the moment, at least, it was currently tempered by the near-equal desire to not hurry, to let this distraction last as long as it could.
Though every touch and sound from Mira was a small test to the Ascian's resolve, and at the break to their last kiss, he dips his head slightly, to press his lips to the side of her neck instead. His breath was warm against her skin, and a degree quicker than usual.
And the stronger reaction from Mira nets a vaguely surprised hum from him. His fingers slow, kneading with more attention along her back, feeling for the usual points of tension.
...She carried a lot, didn't she? Not a negligible amount, for a mortal.]
I'm not inclined to, you know. Although....
[A soft, amused tone, though lower than usual. The hand at her face casts downward, skimming down along her side, to toy at the hem of her top, fingers dipping just underneath it.]
[She can't help but sway a bit at each of his touches, to have herself unknowingly taken cared of in such a way. When was the last time she felt this close to another being? Before her time as the Warrior of Light? Halone help her, it feels as if it were ages ago.
And when she feels that one finger slip under her shirt, her blush deepens and it was then she knew that this would go further than expected. He...truly wanted this, didn't he? Mira would be lying to herself if she denies this and having to learn that lesson the hard way, she can't.]
It is in the way, isn't it? But I would prefer not to be alone in that endeavor.
[As she fingers his shirt collar, hooking the digit into the cloth. She wants, nay, needs this. Wants and needs him.]
[The Ascian was likewise unsure of the last time he'd been with someone like this. Not since he'd taken up this host again, certainly. And even in his host's original lifespan, it had been some years; he'd been very old for a long time. Though when it came to genuine closeness...
...not since Amaurot had fallen.
Not that he was sure what this was, exactly, only that he wanted it to continue, with more intensity than he expected from himself.]
Mm... I suppose 'tis only fair.
[As though that were the chief consideration.
Leaving her side with a final stroke, Emet-Selch brings his hand back up to meet hers at his collar. And though he's distracted momentarily by brushing his fingers over Mira's hand, he returns to task soon enough, unfastening the various ties to his shirt, and though the movement is steady, there's a certain impatience to it.]
[There may not be any words for what they share right now. Undefined but it needs not a name or title, it feels more emotional rather than being able to describe using any spoken language. The only thing Mira knew and could feel is to keep that close contact with this man, to feel his skin under her fingertips and mouth. And yet there's something else lurking as well, something she cannot fully describe when it comes to the Ascian.
It's also good that she can see how his clothing works; she's wondered how he was able to handle the heavy finery while running around in the woods and chalked it up to some form of magic. But where's the fun in simply having only him take off his garments? Besides, wouldn't it go a little quicker if he had a hand such as the one moving over his?]
[Perhaps it didn't require words, at least for this moment. Labels and distinctions may have their place, their time, but for right now they would only be a distraction, would do a disservice to something that was worth their full attention. Some things were better felt through, and the Ascian pauses in his actions, letting his hand press back against Mira's at her offer.
His clothes did tend towards the complicated... though at least this time there's fewer layers (as he had been attempting to sleep, prior to this) to figure out. Tilting his head forward for a moment, he leaves a light, if yet lingering kiss at her lips before responding.]
If you like.
[Whether it would be any faster, Emet-Selch was less certain about- but that wasn't the point, was it? If it led to more of the feeling of Mira's hands on him, then it was wanted and worthwhile, and certainly more interesting than just doing it himself.]
[Even extra in his clothing she can tell. The layering could be much worse and it's not so bad she thinks as her hands work on the barriers between them, returning his kiss with much more intensity and deepening it. Mira can definitely multitask when she puts her mind to it and this is no exception.
Still a bit of a pain but it's worth it to get a glimpse of that sought after skin. Mira can't help but hum as once the last layer is opened and her hands move in to caress the flesh before her. The same hands that can grip a longsword with ease move to explore, to map out his contours as she ponders if there were any places that would make him react. Which means discarding the shirts and clothing loosened onto the floor. It'll be cleaned up later probably as she whispers to him in between kisses.]
[From hands on fabric, to progressively less fabric, to skin- the process was inevitable, but no less satisfying in its result. His own fingers alternated between the occasional bit of help, and running over her hands, along her arms, drinking in every piece of contact.
Even when Emet-Selch has to briefly let go to allow his arms to be freed, it was the smallest of prices, to considerable reward. Though the air around him was comparatively cooler, it was Mira's hands along his sides which produce a shiver from him, a poorly stifled gasp against her skin. It wasn't possible to press into each of her touches, so he settles for pulling her closer, answering her deepening of the kisses with his own, matching her for intensity. He's a little out of breath when he replies.]
...strange words to an Ascian, you know.
[This wasn't his real body, after all. But his tone is not displeased, a murmured breath against damp lips.
Shifting an arm between them, his fingers trace down Mira's throat, over her collar and to her chest, where- yes, this fabric was definitely getting in the way now. Though he takes the moment to cup her breast through her clothing regardless, grip a gentle exploration of its own, before trying to figure out how her own clothes attached.]
[It's the small victories she will take. The small movements and noises at the realization that it was her who coaxed them out, a simple mortal from a sorcerer of eld. The playing field might be leveled here but there's a sense of confidence that goes along with that thought. Honestly, someone who has lived thousands of years? They may know a few things.]
And we have already established how strange I am.
[Spoken with a cheeky grin as Emet starts his own exploration and it's that moment where Mira feels like it is getting too warm for her tastes. Luckily for Emet, her own shirt is rather simple but she can at least assist with removing the belt, tossing it aside. She can't help but react with a small whimper as she feels her chest being played with, almost feeling like she should just tear the cursed clothing off. No no, that won't do and besides, does she really want to explain how the hells her favorite shirt got ruined to the poor soul who has to fix it?
The answer is no. No she doesn't. Instead, she takes that same hand of his fondling her and moves it downward towards the bottom hem. Is she silently telling him that he can take it off? Naturally.]
'Tis only fair after all. It would be rude to not let you enjoy yourself as well.
[And that strangeness is certainly a point in Mira's favor. When he'd first offered cooperation to the heroes, that it would ever have taken the form of assisting in clothes removal.... And yet here they were.
At least Mira's shirt was simple enough, but nothing would ever beat Amaurot when it came to straightforward fashion, as far as Emet-Selch was concerned. Everyone had the same robes, everyone knew how they worked, no complications.]
Hm, and I thought I was already enjoying myself.
[Lightly said, but it's not as though he's going to pass on that invitation, slipping his hands properly under her shirt, and beginning to nudge it upward. It's a slow process, with frequent pauses to stroke or rub over the exposed skin as it was gradually revealed, a low murmur of approval working in his throat. And when her top is eventually removed, to be similarly discarded to the side, it took effort to keep from tugging her tight against him again, skin against skin, as close as he could; it would have been difficult to let go.
The only way to temper the desire was with more contact, holding Mira close, while leaving enough room to keep a hand between them, fingers skimming over her chest once more, outlining her.]
...You are quite lovely, you realize.
[A softer, more serious tone, looking straight into Mira's eyes. Though a moment later, he dips his head, to press a kiss between her collarbones.]
[To be fair, no one ever expected something like this, not even Mira herself. Whatever she was expecting, it certainly did not involve her sitting on Emet's lap and being as close as they are right now as well as the lack of clothing both have.
He'll be able to make out toned skin from Mira's form along with some scars from battles old and recent, including one along her chest, courtesy of Elidibus running around in Zenos's body. But that's what happens when the job is to fight; she's just grateful that she came out with just a mark. But feeling Emet's bare hands on her skin makes her shudder and quietly let out mewls, anticipation filling her mind with what exactly will happen next once that garment is gone. She is lucky that her glasses remain on, not wanting to think about if they too were on the other side of the room like her poor shirt.
But it's his words that make Mira pause, her cheeks growing a deeper crimson as he works on her collarbone while her hand finds its way back to thread his hair before she could reply. He may not have his original powers but Fury help her if those molten gold orbs were looking straight into her. Now she didn't think herself much to look at but it was not out of some kind of self loathing. More than likely, people did pay attention and it was just Mira being her useless self.]
Actually, I had thought myself average compared to others. Suppose it was because I was rather focused on everything else to notice.
[But it's during this that upon one spot on her collarbone, Mira couldn't help but gasp a little louder than usual, making her body tingle.]
[Catching a glimpse of the heat in her face had been somewhat satisfying, though the Ascian doesn't let it distract him. The scars were likewise noticeable, but he doesn't mind them; why would he? They came with her profession, no matter how skilled or fortunate she was. Perhaps he'd ask over their stories one day, though for now he settles for tracing along them as part of the rest of his exploration of her body; they were a part of her, nothing more or less.
The sounds Mira was making were similarly gratifying, and Emet-Selch could feel his pulse further quickened by them. Though at her- modesty? Lack of self-awareness?- he's tempted to point out that his own judgement was obviously both correct, and completely objective, but that would mean more of a pause than he was willing to give.
Especially when Mira's body was responding to him like this, and he can't entirely fight back a small answering shudder. At the stronger reaction to his attention towards her collarbone, the Ascian nips the area more sharply, before soothing it with his tongue.
And from gentle touches grow firmer ones, as his hand kneads over her breast, learning the shape of her through touch alone. At first, only his palm brushes over her nipple, before letting his fingers pay it more close attention. Rolling it between two fingers, his thumb flicks lightly over it.]
[She has to bite her lower lip as a way to hold in a groan, feeling that it was going to be louder than expected. There's still another person in the house (whether they are around or not is uncertain) and explaining what is happening will be strange if she had to put it lightly. Mira didn't expect to react as such but Halone forfend, his touches should be considered sinful.
Well, they already are but the sentiment stays.
If the result is a mark left where she's been bit, it might be hard to cover up but the thought is far from her mind because of everything else she's feeling right now. Mira can feel the heat within her building up with how Emet is playing with her, like the keys to a piano. He'd be able to feel the nubs harden between his fingers and she has to let her lip go as she cries out.]
You tease-!
[With how she says it, the feeling is not unwelcome. Of course he'd do it, the little shit and Mira's allowing it to happen. She cannot control what feels good but Fury help her she wants more.]
[There may be some small marks left from his bite, though probably nothing that would take too long to fade. His thoughts were far from that concern as well, focused entirely on the taste and feel of the skin underneath his lips, every small movement and sound he was provoking from Mira.
Emet-Selch couldn't deny a certain deepening warmth as well, as his hands alternated between massaging at her breasts, and toying with those stiffened nubs- and occasionally casting upward, to brush touches against her shoulders, her throat; there was a lot of skin available, and it all deserved attention. It was all something to be learned, to be memorized.]
Oh? Would you rather I stopped?
[And he almost manages to say it evenly, and when the Ascian tilts his head up to glance at her, his expression is both mildly amused, and the tiniest bit smug. Though in honesty, he was mostly both surprised and a bit touched at how Mira responded to him, despite knowing all of who and what he was.
And it wasn't as though he was exactly unmoved himself, and despite his comment, he's hardly about to even pretend that he's going to stop touching her. And though he lets his hand drift from her chest, it's only to stroke slowly down her side, to rest lightly at her hip.]
[She shouldn't be doing this at all. Would it feel like a betrayal to her friends and comrades if she gave in, let this man touch her as such? While she's drove home the idea of that this is her choice and something she looks on with not a bad notion, it's managing to creep in slowly. After all the pain he's caused to her, the Scions, their home...should she? Everyone else's notion (not a Warrior it seems) seems to believe so and yet, Mira is reminded of K'rihnn's written words and her own response:
Everything I know would say not to extend my hand out to him. And yet, it would feel wrong if I did not at least try to. Suppose my heart is still a little soft after everything.
Perhaps it's because Emet shared something so close to his heart to her that she does this. No obligations but rather the want to know the man beyond the glyph and barbs. Everything else is saying to go back...but that isn't Mira. Don't look back.
When he looks at her, she brings a hand to caress the side of his face. When she speaks, it's quiet but her voice does not break as the woman stares back at him through half lidded eyes.]
[Though he'd intended it only as a minor tease, Mira's reaction seemed much more serious. Regarding her quietly, Emet-Selch wondered if she'd discovered some misgivings after all, if the weight of what they were doing had finally sunk in.
Neither of them were taking this lightly, it seemed. Though it was easy to dwell on the simple physicality of it, the complications remained, history was inescapable. The feeling of Mira's hand on his face brought a faint relief, and he leans into the touch, further reassured by her words. A steadying moment. It wasn't as though his own feelings were any less complicated; the mix of who she was verses who she was not, his death, the loss of his people, his god. The awareness that it was all so, so transitory, like every other mortal, like every other life over the past thousands and thousands of years....
And when he leans in to press their lips together, it's gently once more, to focus again on the moment, rather than the din of those thoughts. Beginning to feel the limitations of their current position, he begins to nudge Mira off of him, to find a place back along the bed instead. Throughout, he's reluctant to break the kiss, following her with his body, to keep as much contact between them as possible.]
[She needs that reminder, Emet's lips silently telling her body to calm itself. The complications outside of this room could wait for some time, to let them have this one thing that most mortals seek. Their movements like a dance as he leads and she follows, inching her body onto the bed, using both hands to guide him down with her. Mira sinks into the pillows, not breaking contact even once as she lets her hands roam his backside, her chest pressing into his.
She can feel that heat swell within her, form in her belly as it spreads further down as the skin on skin contact just made it grow. She's lucky for now that her trousers are still on her but it's inevitable that he'll learn just how much this has been exciting her even with the intrusive thoughts. Just the mere thought is making her shiver and silently gasp, knowing how this will end for them. And by the Fury and all the stars, Mira wants it so much she can taste it. And it tastes just like the Ascian above her.]
[Though he avoids resting his full weight on her, it doesn't keep Emet-Selch from following closely, pressing their bodies together as he settles mostly on top of Mira, just the awareness of their position a pleasure in itself. And the increased skin contact, the movement of her hands on him, pulls a sharper intake of breath from him, and a shaky exhalation. Though he tended to be restrained in his sounds, it was getting harder to keep the occasional one from surfacing, as close as they were.
When was the last time he'd felt this measure of anticipation? That he'd ached this much for someone?
And though he longed to just twine their legs together, rub against her for some meager measure of relief, he holds himself back from doing so. But there's little teasing this time when his hand moves to start working at the fastenings of Mira's trousers; all this remaining fabric was intolerable, why did mortal clothing have to have all these parts to it.]
She can't help but grin into the kiss as Mira feels Emet's hands working the clasps of her pants, thinking of how complicated his own clothing was a few minutes ago. Her hands move down, gliding along his arms until they find his hands and guide them along for a smoother removal. Mira's fingers then latch onto the cloth as she lifts her hips and slides them onto his fingers. He'll be able to notice that it's not just the sturdy fabric of her trousers he's feeling but her smallclothes as well.
Yeah, both of them need to go as they soon take their leave along with the rest of her clothes, leaving the Warrior completely exposed and at Emet's 'mercy'. Ha, saying it like it's troublesome as one of the woman's legs wrap around his waist.]
[Finally, Mira's clothing lay fully defeated. And though Emet-Selch's first impulse is to set upon his own trousers, to shed those last layers that were keeping them from what they both needed, he's taken instead by the sight of her, exposed and available to him. And he's unable to resist skimming his fingers along the crease of one thigh, before slipping between them.
Though it wasn't quite a surprise, the Ascian's breath still catches at the feeling of just how ready she was for him. And his fingers stroke along that slick warmth for a few moments, enjoying the way she yielded to his touch, dipping just inside of her, without needing to think about it. It was the sort of experience he would've wanted to explore more fully, but he was feeling more constricted by the moment, and it almost hurt.]
Gods, Mira, I--
[Noting the unsteadiness in his voice, he cuts it off with a frustrated huff against her lips, as his hand reluctantly leaves Mira's body, to work at the fastenings of his own trousers.]
[Her breath hitches and she mewls at his fingers, just feeling that dull ache ignite within her core. Just hearing him speak her name makes it feel as she is floating and Fury help her it feels so good.]
Enjoying the view, I take it.
[It's with a chuckle and even she can tell he's eager as it seems Emet is taking his sexual frustration on his poor pants. It's a good thing that the dark knight is the helpful sort as his hands aren't the only ones on the accursed clothing.
[There's a little too much breath in the words to be entirely casual. And her hands are a welcome, and possibly even helpful addition to his own, even as Emet-Selch has to partially sit up a bit, in order to finally manage to push everything down. Some impatient maneuvering later, and finally all the accursed material was gone.
And that brought some light relief in itself, though it's short-lived, the greater need remaining. But before moving over Mira again, the Ascian pauses, looking down at her, at the scene before them. It wasn't hesitation, just a silent consciousness of this moment, in all its transience.
There was a certain melancholy lurking behind that feeling, but Emet-Selch ignores it, moving to let their bodies settle together once more, this time completely free from interference. But simple contact wasn't enough at this point, not nearly, and he nestled between her thighs with a tense shiver, hardness brushing up against her, before maneuvering a hand lower to help guide himself into her body. Tilting his head up to observe Mira's face, the Ascian doesn't pause until he can feel the full length of himself buried within her. And though he seems otherwise quite calm, he's unable to stop the small shudder that runs through him, or the low sigh that escaped with his exhalation.]
[Oh enjoy it all you wish, Mira minds not in the slightest. It feels rather wonderful to have someone look upon her and not for her title. And yet she's never felt so exposed in both senses of the term. A rarity in her life now as she reaches toward him, letting this be her focus now. Her legs open to him, welcoming as she shudders as his length moving past her lower lips. Emet sinks into her and Mira's doing her best not to cry out loudly while her other leg positions itself and hooks with her other around his hips. Her inner walls are clenching around him and she's trying to adjust herself, feeling her heat blossom but far from satisfied.]
Ohhh yes~!
[She can't help but roll her hips into his, feeling oh so wonderful. Sinful without a doubt but incredible as well. Uncoming for a Warrior of Light but who cared now? She can't help but lose herself in this pleasure, making soft moans with each movement. Gods, she doesn't want this to end-!]
[It was hard to not cry out with her, as he felt that tightening around him, the shudders of Mira's body against and under him, and he buries his face against her neck. It's instinct rather than any deliberate thought that has him slide partially from her body, before pressing sharply forward once more, matching the roll of her hips.
Her legs around him kept their bodies close, as close as it was possible to be. And once started, it was impossible to keep from moving, to keep from burying himself within her heat. His pulse was racing, the softest of moans escaping with each new push into her body. It was probably some kind of betrayal to be so open with an enemy, to find pleasure in Light's destructive embrace, but the Ascian couldn't quite find the inclination to care.
This was only for them, if only for a moment- outside of alignments and titles and respective fates.]
[With one arm gripping his back and her other hand touching his locks of hair, it's as she's encouraging him to take more. Let them have this, even if only it may be just once. There's no line between them now as enemies but just as two people in passionate company. No titles, nothing else needed. However, it's when she arches herself into him again and he hits a particular bundle of nerves, Mira cannot help but cry out his name feeling immense pleasure.]
Hades-!
[His name. His true name. She's had the thought for awhile that saying it to him might be a bad idea considering outside of their battle, she didn't have the right to speak his name. Feels like she shouldn't and yet unknowingly, she invokes it. By the time she's realizes it, the deed has been done and she cannot help but have a moment of dread. And yet, it feels as its drifting away in this state of euphoria. Drifting away but still lingers and praying that she didn't mess this up somehow.]
[While there was certainly a reaction to the sound of his name, it would be hard to describe it as a negative one. Catching him off-guard, the Ascian's breath hitches sharply, followed by an almost strangled, needy sound. Despite the refusal to stop moving, he tilts his head to bring their lips together, in a meeting that was more desperation than a kiss.
His name was the most personal thing he possessed, the one thing that was entirely his own. The sound of it brought a different sort of pleasure, a different kind of ache. It had once been a common address, but that had been another time and place- something he'd never have again.
Just the sound of it, cried out like that, was enough to intensify everything. His movements became rougher, sharper, what was left of his control was burned away by degrees, intent only on taking everything that Mira was offering him. He doesn't know how long it lasts until there's nothing left, only the inevitable peak- a moment that has him clinging hard to Mira, near-violent shudders wracking his body as he releases deep inside of her. Unable to let go for some time after, Emet-Selch can only gasp for air and shiver.]
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Though every touch and sound from Mira was a small test to the Ascian's resolve, and at the break to their last kiss, he dips his head slightly, to press his lips to the side of her neck instead. His breath was warm against her skin, and a degree quicker than usual.
And the stronger reaction from Mira nets a vaguely surprised hum from him. His fingers slow, kneading with more attention along her back, feeling for the usual points of tension.
...She carried a lot, didn't she? Not a negligible amount, for a mortal.]
I'm not inclined to, you know. Although....
[A soft, amused tone, though lower than usual. The hand at her face casts downward, skimming down along her side, to toy at the hem of her top, fingers dipping just underneath it.]
'Twould feel better without this in the way.
Welp, this may get NSFW kids!
And when she feels that one finger slip under her shirt, her blush deepens and it was then she knew that this would go further than expected. He...truly wanted this, didn't he? Mira would be lying to herself if she denies this and having to learn that lesson the hard way, she can't.]
It is in the way, isn't it? But I would prefer not to be alone in that endeavor.
[As she fingers his shirt collar, hooking the digit into the cloth. She wants, nay, needs this. Wants and needs him.]
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...not since Amaurot had fallen.
Not that he was sure what this was, exactly, only that he wanted it to continue, with more intensity than he expected from himself.]
Mm... I suppose 'tis only fair.
[As though that were the chief consideration.
Leaving her side with a final stroke, Emet-Selch brings his hand back up to meet hers at his collar. And though he's distracted momentarily by brushing his fingers over Mira's hand, he returns to task soon enough, unfastening the various ties to his shirt, and though the movement is steady, there's a certain impatience to it.]
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It's also good that she can see how his clothing works; she's wondered how he was able to handle the heavy finery while running around in the woods and chalked it up to some form of magic. But where's the fun in simply having only him take off his garments? Besides, wouldn't it go a little quicker if he had a hand such as the one moving over his?]
Perhaps I can help out...?
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His clothes did tend towards the complicated... though at least this time there's fewer layers (as he had been attempting to sleep, prior to this) to figure out. Tilting his head forward for a moment, he leaves a light, if yet lingering kiss at her lips before responding.]
If you like.
[Whether it would be any faster, Emet-Selch was less certain about- but that wasn't the point, was it? If it led to more of the feeling of Mira's hands on him, then it was wanted and worthwhile, and certainly more interesting than just doing it himself.]
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Still a bit of a pain but it's worth it to get a glimpse of that sought after skin. Mira can't help but hum as once the last layer is opened and her hands move in to caress the flesh before her. The same hands that can grip a longsword with ease move to explore, to map out his contours as she ponders if there were any places that would make him react. Which means discarding the shirts and clothing loosened onto the floor. It'll be cleaned up later probably as she whispers to him in between kisses.]
You're beautiful.
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Even when Emet-Selch has to briefly let go to allow his arms to be freed, it was the smallest of prices, to considerable reward. Though the air around him was comparatively cooler, it was Mira's hands along his sides which produce a shiver from him, a poorly stifled gasp against her skin. It wasn't possible to press into each of her touches, so he settles for pulling her closer, answering her deepening of the kisses with his own, matching her for intensity. He's a little out of breath when he replies.]
...strange words to an Ascian, you know.
[This wasn't his real body, after all. But his tone is not displeased, a murmured breath against damp lips.
Shifting an arm between them, his fingers trace down Mira's throat, over her collar and to her chest, where- yes, this fabric was definitely getting in the way now. Though he takes the moment to cup her breast through her clothing regardless, grip a gentle exploration of its own, before trying to figure out how her own clothes attached.]
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And we have already established how strange I am.
[Spoken with a cheeky grin as Emet starts his own exploration and it's that moment where Mira feels like it is getting too warm for her tastes. Luckily for Emet, her own shirt is rather simple but she can at least assist with removing the belt, tossing it aside. She can't help but react with a small whimper as she feels her chest being played with, almost feeling like she should just tear the cursed clothing off. No no, that won't do and besides, does she really want to explain how the hells her favorite shirt got ruined to the poor soul who has to fix it?
The answer is no. No she doesn't. Instead, she takes that same hand of his fondling her and moves it downward towards the bottom hem. Is she silently telling him that he can take it off? Naturally.]
'Tis only fair after all. It would be rude to not let you enjoy yourself as well.
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At least Mira's shirt was simple enough, but nothing would ever beat Amaurot when it came to straightforward fashion, as far as Emet-Selch was concerned. Everyone had the same robes, everyone knew how they worked, no complications.]
Hm, and I thought I was already enjoying myself.
[Lightly said, but it's not as though he's going to pass on that invitation, slipping his hands properly under her shirt, and beginning to nudge it upward. It's a slow process, with frequent pauses to stroke or rub over the exposed skin as it was gradually revealed, a low murmur of approval working in his throat. And when her top is eventually removed, to be similarly discarded to the side, it took effort to keep from tugging her tight against him again, skin against skin, as close as he could; it would have been difficult to let go.
The only way to temper the desire was with more contact, holding Mira close, while leaving enough room to keep a hand between them, fingers skimming over her chest once more, outlining her.]
...You are quite lovely, you realize.
[A softer, more serious tone, looking straight into Mira's eyes. Though a moment later, he dips his head, to press a kiss between her collarbones.]
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He'll be able to make out toned skin from Mira's form along with some scars from battles old and recent, including one along her chest, courtesy of Elidibus running around in Zenos's body. But that's what happens when the job is to fight; she's just grateful that she came out with just a mark. But feeling Emet's bare hands on her skin makes her shudder and quietly let out mewls, anticipation filling her mind with what exactly will happen next once that garment is gone. She is lucky that her glasses remain on, not wanting to think about if they too were on the other side of the room like her poor shirt.
But it's his words that make Mira pause, her cheeks growing a deeper crimson as he works on her collarbone while her hand finds its way back to thread his hair before she could reply. He may not have his original powers but Fury help her if those molten gold orbs were looking straight into her. Now she didn't think herself much to look at but it was not out of some kind of self loathing. More than likely, people did pay attention and it was just Mira being her useless self.]
Actually, I had thought myself average compared to others. Suppose it was because I was rather focused on everything else to notice.
[But it's during this that upon one spot on her collarbone, Mira couldn't help but gasp a little louder than usual, making her body tingle.]
Aaah-! That's-!
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The sounds Mira was making were similarly gratifying, and Emet-Selch could feel his pulse further quickened by them. Though at her- modesty? Lack of self-awareness?- he's tempted to point out that his own judgement was obviously both correct, and completely objective, but that would mean more of a pause than he was willing to give.
Especially when Mira's body was responding to him like this, and he can't entirely fight back a small answering shudder. At the stronger reaction to his attention towards her collarbone, the Ascian nips the area more sharply, before soothing it with his tongue.
And from gentle touches grow firmer ones, as his hand kneads over her breast, learning the shape of her through touch alone. At first, only his palm brushes over her nipple, before letting his fingers pay it more close attention. Rolling it between two fingers, his thumb flicks lightly over it.]
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Well, they already are but the sentiment stays.
If the result is a mark left where she's been bit, it might be hard to cover up but the thought is far from her mind because of everything else she's feeling right now. Mira can feel the heat within her building up with how Emet is playing with her, like the keys to a piano. He'd be able to feel the nubs harden between his fingers and she has to let her lip go as she cries out.]
You tease-!
[With how she says it, the feeling is not unwelcome. Of course he'd do it, the little shit and Mira's allowing it to happen. She cannot control what feels good but Fury help her she wants more.]
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Emet-Selch couldn't deny a certain deepening warmth as well, as his hands alternated between massaging at her breasts, and toying with those stiffened nubs- and occasionally casting upward, to brush touches against her shoulders, her throat; there was a lot of skin available, and it all deserved attention. It was all something to be learned, to be memorized.]
Oh? Would you rather I stopped?
[And he almost manages to say it evenly, and when the Ascian tilts his head up to glance at her, his expression is both mildly amused, and the tiniest bit smug. Though in honesty, he was mostly both surprised and a bit touched at how Mira responded to him, despite knowing all of who and what he was.
And it wasn't as though he was exactly unmoved himself, and despite his comment, he's hardly about to even pretend that he's going to stop touching her. And though he lets his hand drift from her chest, it's only to stroke slowly down her side, to rest lightly at her hip.]
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Everything I know would say not to extend my hand out to him. And yet, it would feel wrong if I did not at least try to. Suppose my heart is still a little soft after everything.
Perhaps it's because Emet shared something so close to his heart to her that she does this. No obligations but rather the want to know the man beyond the glyph and barbs. Everything else is saying to go back...but that isn't Mira. Don't look back.
When he looks at her, she brings a hand to caress the side of his face. When she speaks, it's quiet but her voice does not break as the woman stares back at him through half lidded eyes.]
I don't want you to. Please don't stop.
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Neither of them were taking this lightly, it seemed. Though it was easy to dwell on the simple physicality of it, the complications remained, history was inescapable. The feeling of Mira's hand on his face brought a faint relief, and he leans into the touch, further reassured by her words. A steadying moment. It wasn't as though his own feelings were any less complicated; the mix of who she was verses who she was not, his death, the loss of his people, his god. The awareness that it was all so, so transitory, like every other mortal, like every other life over the past thousands and thousands of years....
And when he leans in to press their lips together, it's gently once more, to focus again on the moment, rather than the din of those thoughts. Beginning to feel the limitations of their current position, he begins to nudge Mira off of him, to find a place back along the bed instead. Throughout, he's reluctant to break the kiss, following her with his body, to keep as much contact between them as possible.]
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She can feel that heat swell within her, form in her belly as it spreads further down as the skin on skin contact just made it grow. She's lucky for now that her trousers are still on her but it's inevitable that he'll learn just how much this has been exciting her even with the intrusive thoughts. Just the mere thought is making her shiver and silently gasp, knowing how this will end for them. And by the Fury and all the stars, Mira wants it so much she can taste it. And it tastes just like the Ascian above her.]
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When was the last time he'd felt this measure of anticipation? That he'd ached this much for someone?
And though he longed to just twine their legs together, rub against her for some meager measure of relief, he holds himself back from doing so. But there's little teasing this time when his hand moves to start working at the fastenings of Mira's trousers; all this remaining fabric was intolerable, why did mortal clothing have to have all these parts to it.]
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She can't help but grin into the kiss as Mira feels Emet's hands working the clasps of her pants, thinking of how complicated his own clothing was a few minutes ago. Her hands move down, gliding along his arms until they find his hands and guide them along for a smoother removal. Mira's fingers then latch onto the cloth as she lifts her hips and slides them onto his fingers. He'll be able to notice that it's not just the sturdy fabric of her trousers he's feeling but her smallclothes as well.
Yeah, both of them need to go as they soon take their leave along with the rest of her clothes, leaving the Warrior completely exposed and at Emet's 'mercy'. Ha, saying it like it's troublesome as one of the woman's legs wrap around his waist.]
Oh gods, I need you.
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Though it wasn't quite a surprise, the Ascian's breath still catches at the feeling of just how ready she was for him. And his fingers stroke along that slick warmth for a few moments, enjoying the way she yielded to his touch, dipping just inside of her, without needing to think about it. It was the sort of experience he would've wanted to explore more fully, but he was feeling more constricted by the moment, and it almost hurt.]
Gods, Mira, I--
[Noting the unsteadiness in his voice, he cuts it off with a frustrated huff against her lips, as his hand reluctantly leaves Mira's body, to work at the fastenings of his own trousers.]
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Enjoying the view, I take it.
[It's with a chuckle and even she can tell he's eager as it seems Emet is taking his sexual frustration on his poor pants. It's a good thing that the dark knight is the helpful sort as his hands aren't the only ones on the accursed clothing.
Helpful or needy, either works.]
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[There's a little too much breath in the words to be entirely casual. And her hands are a welcome, and possibly even helpful addition to his own, even as Emet-Selch has to partially sit up a bit, in order to finally manage to push everything down. Some impatient maneuvering later, and finally all the accursed material was gone.
And that brought some light relief in itself, though it's short-lived, the greater need remaining. But before moving over Mira again, the Ascian pauses, looking down at her, at the scene before them. It wasn't hesitation, just a silent consciousness of this moment, in all its transience.
There was a certain melancholy lurking behind that feeling, but Emet-Selch ignores it, moving to let their bodies settle together once more, this time completely free from interference. But simple contact wasn't enough at this point, not nearly, and he nestled between her thighs with a tense shiver, hardness brushing up against her, before maneuvering a hand lower to help guide himself into her body. Tilting his head up to observe Mira's face, the Ascian doesn't pause until he can feel the full length of himself buried within her. And though he seems otherwise quite calm, he's unable to stop the small shudder that runs through him, or the low sigh that escaped with his exhalation.]
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Ohhh yes~!
[She can't help but roll her hips into his, feeling oh so wonderful. Sinful without a doubt but incredible as well. Uncoming for a Warrior of Light but who cared now? She can't help but lose herself in this pleasure, making soft moans with each movement. Gods, she doesn't want this to end-!]
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Her legs around him kept their bodies close, as close as it was possible to be. And once started, it was impossible to keep from moving, to keep from burying himself within her heat. His pulse was racing, the softest of moans escaping with each new push into her body. It was probably some kind of betrayal to be so open with an enemy, to find pleasure in Light's destructive embrace, but the Ascian couldn't quite find the inclination to care.
This was only for them, if only for a moment- outside of alignments and titles and respective fates.]
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Hades-!
[His name. His true name. She's had the thought for awhile that saying it to him might be a bad idea considering outside of their battle, she didn't have the right to speak his name. Feels like she shouldn't and yet unknowingly, she invokes it. By the time she's realizes it, the deed has been done and she cannot help but have a moment of dread. And yet, it feels as its drifting away in this state of euphoria. Drifting away but still lingers and praying that she didn't mess this up somehow.]
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His name was the most personal thing he possessed, the one thing that was entirely his own. The sound of it brought a different sort of pleasure, a different kind of ache. It had once been a common address, but that had been another time and place- something he'd never have again.
Just the sound of it, cried out like that, was enough to intensify everything. His movements became rougher, sharper, what was left of his control was burned away by degrees, intent only on taking everything that Mira was offering him. He doesn't know how long it lasts until there's nothing left, only the inevitable peak- a moment that has him clinging hard to Mira, near-violent shudders wracking his body as he releases deep inside of her. Unable to let go for some time after, Emet-Selch can only gasp for air and shiver.]
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