No, I-- [it takes her a moment to put the words together,] I just want you to find enjoyment in it too.
[What he's insinuating might be nice, in a perfect world, but Irhya has long since come to terms with the logistics of such a thing being incompatible with her current life. But even if it isn't love, she still uses sex as a tool of affection, among other things; although she knows it must be different for him, a part of her would like to think there's a tiny speck of it buried deep down somewhere on the other end. It's still a show of trust, and that is all she can ask from him right now.
As if working harder might make him more forthcoming with his pleasure, she pushes him a little deeper into the mattress, picking up the pace while finding purchase on his chest. Her own breathing is reedy and erratic from the exertion, struggling just to keep up with the demands of the rest of her body.]
[Which doesn't stop him from sounding a mixture of exasperated and irritated- if mostly out of habit. Though it did draw his attention back to his own response, his inclination to hold back, his disinclination to change this. That this lay in the odd gap between indifference and attachment; close enough to not want to pretend, distant enough to remain guarded. Not that he'd been terribly open in the past either, but it had at least been possible....
--Ugh, that was the problem of thinking too much, it was distracting when it was preferable to focus on the warm-ish miqo'te on top of him, the points of heat where their bodies met. He could appreciate her effort, at least, though he was more conscious of the disconnect between physicality and emotion. His breathing becomes rougher as the pressure she was exerting on him increased; Irhya was surprisingly strong.
Enough so that it took more effort than he expected to actually flip them over, rolling on top of her. Not because he was particularly impatient, but it felt like an easier position to move more quickly, more sharply, biting back a low groan and a small shudder.]
[Though she could probably prevent the motion or make a joke about being too heavy for him, Irhya allows him to turn them over, finding each snap of his hips from this new angle better able to brush upon something that she herself hadn't quite been able to reach, and with the speed she'd been struggling to attain on her own. Even low as it is, the groan he tries to conceal reaches her ears, and it galvanizes her anew, pulling his waist forward with her legs and causing her to arch up eagerly into him.
It's the reaction she seeks, the small sounds, the assurance that yes, he is getting something out of it, even if it's the furthest thing from romantic. But he remains restrained in his movements, and though she expects she understands why, it's more of a challenge to obtain a gratifying response in the moment.
But then... Irhya loves challenges.]
Haaah, harder. Please.
[She curves her fingers down and presses her nails into his back, hoping it will spur something deeper still.]
[There's a small huff in-between quick breaths at the call for a harder movement, and the contrary part of Emet-Selch is tempted to slow, to gentle every motion instead. But he overrides the impulse, aware that he'd accomplish little more than frustrating himself in turn.
Leaning low over her, each thrust becomes rougher, more forceful, pushing Irhya back into the bed with every motion. It's still deliberate, conscious; controlled even as restraint is shed. Controlled in a technical sense, anyway, as he knows he'd find it quite hard to stop.
Especially with the sharp points in his back, her legs around him; his pulse is loud in his ears, as he buries his face against Irhya's neck, breath a near pant against her skin. Though soft, quiet, the sounds he makes are more regular, almost needy, as he moves faster still.]
[There is a part of him, she knows, that will probably never fully be able to let go like she'd want, but this is enough for now. It's all she can do not to laugh at his reaction to her request, too, though she can't help the satisfied smile that crosses her face anyway. It sticks there for a while until she can't consciously maintain it anymore, transported quickly by the feeling of a warm body covering hers and the sounds of strain for gratification.
Each push of his is met with little resistance, even when she starts to feel the familiar tightening in her knees begin as a full-body flashover. Her hand flies to her clit to encourage herself along, and before long she's driving her head back into the headboard, not caring about the extra thudding noise it creates every time the top of her head bumps into it. The final straw comes when she fists a hand into his hair and curls her fingers while the other yanks at the covers; she starts on a keening note, tightens up, and ends up running out of air mid-chord, finally making some hard gasps as the pulsation overtakes her.
It almost, almost makes her feel like she has a heartbeat again.]
[Despite everything, Emet-Selch was ultimately a sentimental creature; without engaging that part of him, there was a limit what he was willing, was able to give.
Even if it was just his own heat reflected back to him, she was warm, and responsive, and his breath hitches as she tightens around him. Eyes closed, it was as though every other sense was heightened- feeling every quiver, aware of every place their skin touched, hearing every creak from the bed, each note from Irhya herself.
It's not very long afterward that he's dragged over the threshold himself. The suddenness of it nearly startles him, driving her into the bed with a pained, choked sound, the jerks of his hips gradually slowing as he finishes emptying himself into her. Even then, he clings to her body afterward, shivering, as if still searching for a sort of closeness that couldn't quite be reached.]
[In the last gasps of her orgasm, she finally lets his name slip.]
Hades...
[Her arms wrapped around him, she turns them sideways, forcing him to slip free from her while still keeping him close.]
Mm. Thank you, I feel better now.
[On a number of levels, though she also seems to have uncovered some new curiosities of hers that will have to sit for a later time. For the time being, though, a deliberate wash of something warm and pleased comes through the link, despite finding her own lack of anything to say awkward in the aftermath.]
Pull the blanket back up. You'll lose all that heat if you don't.
[There may be some point that the sound of his name doesn't affect him, but that day is not yet. It's a small, nostalgic sort of feeling that is quickly buried.
Though there is a flicker of annoyance at being told what to do, it wasn't enough to let himself become cold over it. So he just huffs, leaning up enough to grab the edges of the covers and drag them upward, pulling them up over the both of them. Settling back down, he re-wraps his arm around Irhya, burrowing against her.
It was hard to know what to say, though he also felt no particular need to say anything- so in the end, Emet-Selch doesn't bother. Irhya seemed content, he was both calm and tired. That was enough.]
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omnicrafter) wrote2019-08-02 03:20 am
no subject
[What he's insinuating might be nice, in a perfect world, but Irhya has long since come to terms with the logistics of such a thing being incompatible with her current life. But even if it isn't love, she still uses sex as a tool of affection, among other things; although she knows it must be different for him, a part of her would like to think there's a tiny speck of it buried deep down somewhere on the other end. It's still a show of trust, and that is all she can ask from him right now.
As if working harder might make him more forthcoming with his pleasure, she pushes him a little deeper into the mattress, picking up the pace while finding purchase on his chest. Her own breathing is reedy and erratic from the exertion, struggling just to keep up with the demands of the rest of her body.]
Need, faster...
no subject
[Which doesn't stop him from sounding a mixture of exasperated and irritated- if mostly out of habit. Though it did draw his attention back to his own response, his inclination to hold back, his disinclination to change this. That this lay in the odd gap between indifference and attachment; close enough to not want to pretend, distant enough to remain guarded. Not that he'd been terribly open in the past either, but it had at least been possible....
--Ugh, that was the problem of thinking too much, it was distracting when it was preferable to focus on the warm-ish miqo'te on top of him, the points of heat where their bodies met. He could appreciate her effort, at least, though he was more conscious of the disconnect between physicality and emotion. His breathing becomes rougher as the pressure she was exerting on him increased; Irhya was surprisingly strong.
Enough so that it took more effort than he expected to actually flip them over, rolling on top of her. Not because he was particularly impatient, but it felt like an easier position to move more quickly, more sharply, biting back a low groan and a small shudder.]
no subject
It's the reaction she seeks, the small sounds, the assurance that yes, he is getting something out of it, even if it's the furthest thing from romantic. But he remains restrained in his movements, and though she expects she understands why, it's more of a challenge to obtain a gratifying response in the moment.
But then... Irhya loves challenges.]
Haaah, harder. Please.
[She curves her fingers down and presses her nails into his back, hoping it will spur something deeper still.]
no subject
Leaning low over her, each thrust becomes rougher, more forceful, pushing Irhya back into the bed with every motion. It's still deliberate, conscious; controlled even as restraint is shed. Controlled in a technical sense, anyway, as he knows he'd find it quite hard to stop.
Especially with the sharp points in his back, her legs around him; his pulse is loud in his ears, as he buries his face against Irhya's neck, breath a near pant against her skin. Though soft, quiet, the sounds he makes are more regular, almost needy, as he moves faster still.]
no subject
Each push of his is met with little resistance, even when she starts to feel the familiar tightening in her knees begin as a full-body flashover. Her hand flies to her clit to encourage herself along, and before long she's driving her head back into the headboard, not caring about the extra thudding noise it creates every time the top of her head bumps into it. The final straw comes when she fists a hand into his hair and curls her fingers while the other yanks at the covers; she starts on a keening note, tightens up, and ends up running out of air mid-chord, finally making some hard gasps as the pulsation overtakes her.
It almost, almost makes her feel like she has a heartbeat again.]
no subject
Even if it was just his own heat reflected back to him, she was warm, and responsive, and his breath hitches as she tightens around him. Eyes closed, it was as though every other sense was heightened- feeling every quiver, aware of every place their skin touched, hearing every creak from the bed, each note from Irhya herself.
It's not very long afterward that he's dragged over the threshold himself. The suddenness of it nearly startles him, driving her into the bed with a pained, choked sound, the jerks of his hips gradually slowing as he finishes emptying himself into her. Even then, he clings to her body afterward, shivering, as if still searching for a sort of closeness that couldn't quite be reached.]
no subject
Hades...
[Her arms wrapped around him, she turns them sideways, forcing him to slip free from her while still keeping him close.]
Mm. Thank you, I feel better now.
[On a number of levels, though she also seems to have uncovered some new curiosities of hers that will have to sit for a later time. For the time being, though, a deliberate wash of something warm and pleased comes through the link, despite finding her own lack of anything to say awkward in the aftermath.]
Pull the blanket back up. You'll lose all that heat if you don't.
no subject
Though there is a flicker of annoyance at being told what to do, it wasn't enough to let himself become cold over it. So he just huffs, leaning up enough to grab the edges of the covers and drag them upward, pulling them up over the both of them. Settling back down, he re-wraps his arm around Irhya, burrowing against her.
It was hard to know what to say, though he also felt no particular need to say anything- so in the end, Emet-Selch doesn't bother. Irhya seemed content, he was both calm and tired. That was enough.]