[She hums in sympathetic acknowledgement, stroking over his hair as he gets his bearings and pieces his rationality back together. He's smart not to trudge into the "deserve" argument, and his reward for that is apparently also her own reward.]
'Up' could be fun. Am I flying by myself, or do you want to keep holding me?
[They can hardly make much more of a scene, at this point, but she keeps her voice soft and private regardless.]
[ despite probably being the scene to be caught in, it wasn’t as if the inside of the tower was a see through window. people walked about outside without a hint or care for what could be happening on the other side, but one false move and . . . careful.
so eren starts by swinging her into half a bridal carry. half, because eren’s carrying isn’t exactly romantic when he only does it with one arm and steadies his walking against the spiral staircase wall with the other. it’s like he could swing her upside down any minute . . . ]
I’ll fight to hold you.
[ but by all means, feel free to fly if you must! ]
[She nestles in, content to let him do the legwork. It's... well, it's not better than what they were doing, but she's glad for the breather along the way, at least. She'd kiss him more, but that probably isn't the best of ideas, with the stairs in play.]
[ haha. true. no fighting necessary, but he would definitely fight any outer opposition at this point. eren, on the other hand, seems a touch more daring in the way he brings their fronts to a delicate touch. hakuno is free to do what she pleases with her legs, but right now she’s being hoisted chest to chest with one hand on her waist while the other cupped her bottom, all as he scaled a few steps rasping against the wall . . .
he doesn’t seem like he could focus on just walking, and his tongue tickles her lips. ]
I’ve never been here. [ can you!!! god damn believe that. ] I don’t like the ocean.
[Sort of. It was a Sea of Imaginary numbers, technically, whittling away at her body and being, crushing her beneath the depth of human history... But it still felt like the ocean, deep and dark.]
[ only a few more steps and they were nearly there, at an empty second level only home to the gulls and at most, a harpy’s roost that was gone for the day. eren presses her back to the wall where she’d have space to support herself, but with that . . . came more brashness to his touch. where he cups, he now gropes into a squeeze, brings hakuno’s hips to his own to feel the growing spot of his member beneath his clothes. where her head nestled, his own face found the crook of her neck and inhaled, inhaled the smell of her hair and the taste of her skin, breathing hot at the curve of her earlobe and parting his mouth to explore her. ]
I’ve lost count, [ of how many times he’s nearly drowned, all experiences unique to aefenglom. ] but it’s all just a lie.
[She's a girl who suits the layers of the average Aefenglom fashion; a girl with fine, doll-like features before the Fae blood took its pound of flesh and foot of height. But his hands are large enough, firm enough, that each squeeze and rub can't be missed; that the volumes of fabric are rucked up as he presses in, bearing fine stockings to the chilled air. Her wings are splayed flat against the wall, now, like a butterfly behind glass, and her eyes glimmer where he can't see.]
Well.
[Her quiet voice sounds impossibly loud, as she reaches up to ghost her fingers over his jawline.]
Let's focus on a truth we both like, then.
[One of her free-dangling, stocking-clad legs shifts, with purpose, and her thigh rubs up against that burgeoning firmness with notable promise.]
[ a hitch is caught in the hot mouth that travels from her collar to pointed ears, audible when so proximate and exhaling something short and lively— her stockings were like velvet to his traveling fingertips, dangerously close to talons that could catch and tear fissures into them. had they done it yet? maybe there was a brrrtz sound or two adjacent to the accumulating ruffling of her dress fabric being bunched to value her legs as much as hakuno herself had. it was tighter, hotter between his legs his a rub he responded to— a grinding press that encouraged a promise that sealed them both, eagerness, and finding her lips to delve as he did. the combination was fluttering, searing and just as tempting as another shot closer to an ascending high. tongue, saliva, teeth and friction between limbs made him pulse and desire her all the more. ]
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no subject
'Up' could be fun. Am I flying by myself, or do you want to keep holding me?
[They can hardly make much more of a scene, at this point, but she keeps her voice soft and private regardless.]
no subject
so eren starts by swinging her into half a bridal carry. half, because eren’s carrying isn’t exactly romantic when he only does it with one arm and steadies his walking against the spiral staircase wall with the other. it’s like he could swing her upside down any minute . . . ]
I’ll fight to hold you.
[ but by all means, feel free to fly if you must! ]
no subject
[She nestles in, content to let him do the legwork. It's... well, it's not better than what they were doing, but she's glad for the breather along the way, at least. She'd kiss him more, but that probably isn't the best of ideas, with the stairs in play.]
So... Come up here often?
no subject
he doesn’t seem like he could focus on just walking, and his tongue tickles her lips. ]
I’ve never been here. [ can you!!! god damn believe that. ] I don’t like the ocean.
no subject
[She nestles into his shoulder with a soft sigh.]
I was almost lost to one, once.
[Sort of. It was a Sea of Imaginary numbers, technically, whittling away at her body and being, crushing her beneath the depth of human history... But it still felt like the ocean, deep and dark.]
no subject
I’ve lost count, [ of how many times he’s nearly drowned, all experiences unique to aefenglom. ] but it’s all just a lie.
[ all of it. ]
no subject
Well.
[Her quiet voice sounds impossibly loud, as she reaches up to ghost her fingers over his jawline.]
Let's focus on a truth we both like, then.
[One of her free-dangling, stocking-clad legs shifts, with purpose, and her thigh rubs up against that burgeoning firmness with notable promise.]
no subject