omnicrafter | Aefenglom IC Inbox

[For her part, Irhya has been trying to feed frequently to maintain her body temperature, spreading it out amongst as many different people as she can manage to ease the burden on everyone. It helps when the primary mode of warmth is huddling together in front of a fire, but it also proves useful for her to feel something resembling alive again.

Mira had her second turn several nights ago, so she decides it's time to trouble Emet-Selch for it again. She hasn't forgotten the suggestion from last time, and though she'll be perfectly content if things only end with cuddling as they have the past several instances, there's a part of her she can't explain that still longs to jump at the chance. It's nonsensical and pointless but for a quick thrill, but such is her primary mode of living.

She knocks on his door, wearing a thick, overlarge sweater to try and conserve heat.]

Can I come in? Sorry to trouble you, but I need to... you know.

[Emet-Selch had neither anticipated, nor dreaded, Irhya eventually returning to him for a meal. A meal with additions, even. It felt a strange thing to casually accept- allowing someone to take his blood, particularly someone who could still technically be considered an enemy. But he didn't dwell on it overmuch, accepting that it would all probably happen, so long as Irhya didn't lose her nerve somewhere along the way.

And this was as fine a time as any, the Ascian supposed, opening the door to meet her. He hadn't been particularly busy, hadn't been asleep, was in possession of as much blood as he ever did.

So he waves Irhya in with little fanfare, not terribly friendly about it, but then, he rarely was.]

It's fine. You're not interrupting anything.

[And so she steps across the threshold and quietly closes the door behind her, taking a moment to pause as she registers him.]

--Aren't you cold?

[Even she can feel the chill, after all. Yet, he doesn't seem to be huddled up in anything...

She doesn't sit on the bed just yet, watching to see what he chooses to do first. It'd be a lie to say she doesn't enjoy the close contact, and he probably doesn't hate it either, or he'd just push her away. How he can so determinedly deny the cold on his own, though, is beyond her.]

[The question gets a head-tilt, a curious look.]

Not particularly. Are you?

[Not that Emet-Selch was especially warm either, but- he'd spent a lot of time in Garlemald, a place not known for it's pleasant, sunny climate. Though it would probably do to try to heat the room a bit better... he tended to just throw on a blanket if anything started to go numb.

At a sudden thought, he hums to himself, looking thoughtful.]

Ah- or is this just you being indirect?

[Some polite way of inviting closeness. Reaching out to take her hand, he tugs Irhya forward, pulling her against his body, other arm wrapping lightly about her waist. Leaning over to brush lips against the side of her neck, he wonders belatedly if he was making the wrong assumption; there was no guarantee that the miqo'te wasn't just there for a snack, and had thought better of any additional closeness to an Ascian.]

Ah--

[Irhya's about to answer when he pulls her into his embrace, and despite generating so little heat of her own, she can feel her body respond in kind, the heat she does have pooling downward. An unexpected gesture, but not unwelcome at all -- he truly is a creature of whim. She has to laugh softly.]

Hah... a bit frisky today, aren't you? I guess it could be a little of both.

[While he's ducking low into the crook of her neck, she snakes an arm behind him as far as she can reach, then slowly starts walking them backwards towards the edge of the bed with deceptive strength for her diminutive height.

...Yes, this is fine, too.]

[Her comment gets a small huff of breath against her neck, followed by the smallest of nips. Irhya's skin wasn't quite as warm as it 'should' have been, but nor was it chilled enough to remind Emet-Selch of a corpse, at least.]

Don't tell me you've suddenly lost interest.

[Though, judging by the arm around him, and the way she was guiding him back towards the bed, there didn't seem to be much risk of that. And he's entirely cooperative, only stopping when he feels the back of his legs hit the edge of the bed.]

Or that you're just here for my blood after all.

[As he sits down onto the bed, dragging Irhya with him, rather than letting go.]

Not-- at all.

[At her own emphasis, she lifts her knees onto the bed on either side of him, effectively sitting herself on his lap. A blooming sensation of want comes through the link, which had been peaceful and quiet up until just a few moments ago; it's as enthusiastic a consent as any.

Her fingers curl into the back of his shirt, and she runs a feline graze of her lips along the side of his neck, as though only taking stock of her quarry for now. He can probably hear her grinning possessively into his skin as she speaks.]

How kind of you to sweep me off my feet, though.

[To be able to feel another person's desire was yet a novelty, and he answers it with more of a slow burn. Expectation, the edge of anticipation. Certainly positive, in any case.

This was- definitely better than that first attempt. That Irhya felt a little bit like a predator was only interesting, rather than threatening. Tilting his neck into the path of her lips, he makes a pleased sound low in his throat.]

It's the least I could do.

[Arms around her, he burrows both hands underneath the back of her sweater, fingers running up along her skin.]

[Irhya exhales, slow and pronounced, bristling a bit at the feeling of frigid hands traveling up her back. They're both cold, she concludes as she circles around to the front of his throat, scraping the flats of her front teeth against his Adam's apple as if to remind him she could tear it out at a moment's notice.

For now, she mitigates the chill of her own hands by touching through the fabric of his shirt, forcing the hem flapping free with a small tug. Perhaps he is more impervious to the cold than she is -- and it had better hold true once she gets it off. By then, any complaints will be more than a bit belated. Her hips scoot forward another tantalizing ilm or two, drawing herself closer to him and pressing their front sides flush together as she continues to nip gently under his chin without breaking the skin.]

[Her skin was definitely not the place to go to find warmth, Emet-Selch was realizing, but even if she was draining the heat from him after all, he wasn't about to move away. Especially not when she was shifting forward like that, causing his breath to hitch for a moment.

While the teeth dragging over his throat provoke a shiver- or was it the chill from her hands? Or the illusion of danger?

...Well, maybe it was a little threatening after all, but in a good way, a nearly exciting way. The feeling of risk, without the attached fear. It was probably reckless, but what was his life but a series of poor decisions.

Even so, he tilts his head to find her lips, covering them with his own with no little pressure. A scrape of teeth across her lower lip turns into a small bite, though he makes no attempt to pierce her skin.]

[A part of her has to conclude that he really is as screwed up as she is, in some measure. That he would keep going in spite of her tepid body heat, and even knowing the probable intent behind it -- a man after her own heart, she thinks sardonically.

She seems to enjoy the rough play herself, making an amused sound into the ferocity of his kiss. Patience, however, is only a virtue of hers when it's convenient, and so it isn't long before she has a hand woven into his belt, moving to unfasten it with half-steady hands that tremble from -- cold, anticipation, she isn't sure which or to what extent.]

[The cold- if not exactly pleasant- was distinct, unusual, which made it interesting in spite of its drawbacks. Perhaps next time he'd roll her in front of a fire first, though.

Because as he feels her hands working at his belt, the tension that runs through him is certainly in part due to the awareness of how cold her hands actually were, and the idea of her touching ever hotter, sensitive skin was- a bit worrying. Not so much to keep him from responding, though, or from keeping her pulled close.

Or from dragging a hand down across her hip, over her thigh, his fingers massaging roughly along it.]

[Perhaps she felt the slight tinge of uncertainty through the tether and guessed as to its cause, or perhaps she just thought about it well in advance, but either way, the trepidation is something she's aware of; once his belt is open, she takes the time to warm her palms flat on his stomach, knowing the cold will be a slight shock no matter what she touches first. She leaves them there for several moments, rubbing circles, then when she's satisfied with the adjustment, dips one into his pants to curl a more temperate hand around him.]

That better?

[For all that she seems averse to the cold, she's still wearing a skirt and tights. Convenient for this purpose, perhaps, but a bit contrary to someone who claims not to be accustomed to the winter weather.]

[Though he does let out a quiet hiss at the sensation of Irhya's hands on his stomach, the Ascian can guess what she's trying to do, and doesn't protest. They had to be heated up somehow, and that was as good a way as any.

And it seemed to have worked, more-or-less. While her hand couldn't charitably be described as warm, neither was it icy, or even so cold as to provoke more than a lighter shiver from him at the contact.]

Tolerable.

[Evenly spoken, even as his pulse leaps at the touch. Exhaling slowly against Irhya's face, his hand dips underneath her skirt, running a palm along her inner thigh. Idly, he wonders how warm his own hands are; it wasn't as though her skin was doing much to heat them. It's not a thought that's enough to stop him from hooking his fingers into the fabric there, tugging at it enough to work his hand underneath, to let fingers stroke up between her legs.]

[Unlike her hands, the region between her thighs is much warmer, keeping what little heat she does have pooled appropriately. It seems her body reacts the same way as anyone else's to this kind of thing, it simply doesn't have its own warm blood to work with. But his hands are cold, too, so she exhales in a shuddering sigh when he touches slick flesh, her grip around him tightening as she loosens him from his pants.]

Hmm... I'll probably warm up more once I feed, and that should make it easier. [Her lips curve up.] In the meantime, do you want me to...?

[She illustrates the implied ending of her question by stroking him a few times, her thumb rubbing circles into the tip. As long as he's distracted, it's likely he won't even notice when she actually bites -- and perhaps the running hormones will even make it more pleasurable this time.]

[Oh right, she was there primarily to bleed him, wasn't she? The Ascian hadn't quite forgotten, but it hadn't been first in his thoughts for the past few minutes. And though it had been an acceptable idea to start, it would've been very difficult to be bothered by it now. Especially if it helped to warm her up a bit more.]

You might as well, I suppose.

[As though it wouldn't have been frustrating to have her stop, breath catching a little already from the movement of her hand. His own fingers gradually warm, finding where she'd nestled the last of her heat. Rubbing against yielding flesh, the tips of his fingers just barely press into her.]

[Making an amused sound, she appears to have no intention of letting him go to do the deed -- in fact, she starts to handle him a little rougher, pulling him down so she can reach his neck and his crotch simultaneously. She chooses a spot just a little to the south of where she'd bitten him last time; laves her tongue over it a few times, pauses...

No, no, this is an awkward angle. Irhya moves to push him over with a burst of strength deceptive for someone of her size, the better to take him out of his pants and actually put some force into her strokes. Only once he's pinned beneath her by the precariousness of the position does she sink her teeth in, bottoming them out and then closing her lips around the resulting pinpoint wounds.

Much better.]

[All of a sudden, he's back against the bed with little warning, the reflexive protest dying on his lips at the rougher treatment, hips jerking up against her hand without needing to think about it. And then there were her teeth in his neck; such a small, sharp pain that barely qualified as such, a sting that only registered as pleasure.

Was his blood running faster? A distant thought, unremarkable. Unconsciously, he tilts his head, as though offering Irhya the entirety of his throat, unguarded. Whether it was trust or recklessness didn't matter. Pulse speeding underneath her mouth, he stifles a moan halfway, but is unable to keep from shivering underneath her.]

[There's something very primal about the rush that runs through her, an excitement that goes beyond just sexual at hearing, feeling his pulse flutter under her. Irhya sucks on the wound lavishly for several minutes, a fair bit longer than the previous, and when she eventually pulls back to let the piercings coagulate, she is notably warmer, inside and out.

Leaning back to look at his face, she grins, long canines glistening in the low light. It'd take a much more firm bite to drain him significantly, so just letting it bleed itself out sluggishly is enough that it should seal over without much of a mess. She can always lap up the remainder, anyway.]

Better than last time, would you say?

[She does not, however, take her weight off the rest of his body or relinquish him from her hand's up-and-down movements, instead making a coy face at him as she tries to decide what to do from here. It is rather nice to just use her hand while watching his reactions, she must admit...]

[It was a bizarre thing, to find the draining of blood enjoyable, but it was hard to deny that it added to the experience, rather than detracted from it. Enough so that when she stops, there's a moment of disappointment. When Irhya's head lifts, his eyes flicker open again to glance up at her, having to blink a few times to focus in on her face.

And her words get a small sigh of sound, almost amused.]

Some marginal improvement, perhaps....

[It's a bit breathlessly spoken, despite his best efforts. Tension continues to ripple through him, the occasional breathy shudder. Was that faint lightheadedness from blood loss or desire- Emet-Selch couldn't tell. But it seemed to heighten the effect of her hand, in any case, and his eyes slip shut again, breathing unsteadily quick.]

[Enthused by the newfound energy, Irhya licks at the spot one last time to clear away the drops of blood beading up against his skin, then repositions herself away from his neck, finally able to join the one hand with her other as she perches on her knees between his thighs.

The temptation to use her mouth is strong, though the fangs may be cause for a bit of contention, and rightfully so. Instead, she rests his tip on the bed of her tongue, suckling gently on the head without taking too much for the teeth to be an issue. After that, her tongue travels up the underside of him, painting warm stripes as she encircles his shaft between thumb and forefinger at the base.

It's just a huge tease, in the end, and the lidded look she gives him all the while makes that clear. She doesn't plan to make it easy for him.]

[As she changes positions, he didn't need to be watching her to recognize what that sudden warmth and dampness was, and he hisses quietly at both the sensation and insufficient suction. Granted, the nearness of pointy fangs should've been a cause for some slight concern, but he was currently inclined to overlook it.

And though it all felt very good, there was also the edge of frustration, her various touches not promising any immediate relief. And as he half-opens his eyes to look down at her--

...Ah, she was trying to be difficult. And succeeding, to be fair, but it wasn't as though he couldn't be both patient and stubborn. So he settles back with a small huff, reaching down to stroke lightly at her hair; if Irhya wanted to try and drag this out, that was fine.]

[The way he settles in and says nothing signals to her that he's in it for the long haul, even if she's edging on dangerous territory. Finally, she can contain her curiosity no longer, and tries tentatively to push past the first few ilms of him in her mouth. She's slow and cautious at first, testing, making sure an accidental scratch isn't in store for him; if she holds him still and moves steadily, she can fit him past her sharper teeth, if only by a tiny margin.

...Hells, they both must be crazy, for her to be doing this and him to be accepting it like nothing's wrong. But the thought only turns her on more, makes the rich feeling of heat dip low and settle in her lower belly. Pulling up and readjusting, she tries again, deciding it safer to focus on suction rather than movement. Each subsequent plunge downward has her pause to suck with varying intensity, her gaze fixed firmly on his face.]

[With each pause, the feeling of the wet heat of her mouth tightening around him, it took concentration to hold still. To not press into her touch, or shift, or arch, or do anything to disrupt the deliberation of her movements. But the tension is nonetheless noticeable, muscles repeatedly tensing underneath her.

It was a dangerous game, perhaps, but Emet-Selch felt no real concern; whatever happened, happened. And though he appears relatively collected, his lips remain slightly parted, occasionally sucking in a sharper breath, fighting off a shudder. And his skin is faintly flushed, feeling somehow warmer, despite the transfer of blood.]

[Watching the way he tries very hard not to buck into her mouth, she has to wonder how much is out of consideration for her and how much is out of caution for the delicate position he's in. But she's yet to scrape anything, to her credit, and every press downward has her go a little further still, right up until he hits the back of her throat.

Burrowing as deep as she can, she sucks hard as she begins to pull up, leaving him with a juicy pop and replacing her mouth with brisk strokes.]

But if I get you off now, we'll have to wait to do anything else... hmm...

[Perhaps getting a bit ahead of herself by thinking about things in rounds, but she's determined to get her share out of this, too. And if it means making him putty in her hand first, all the better.]

Emet-Selch; sometime around the 15th?

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