"Well, I wouldn't know yet, now would I? But I hope to find out," he replies, and the 'yet' is more optimistic than he's used to being, but he can do it for the joke, and for her. His cheeky grin slips, though, and he reaches up to cup her face in both hands like a precious artifact. "You are not hard to swallow in any metaphorical sense of the word, I promise."
He chuckles warmly, not surprised she'd answer the lewd joke. "Someday," he promises, and she makes him at least want to believe it, even if he struggles to. The hand not pressed to her lips slides back into her hair, rubbing her scalp.
She'd purr if she could. His hand petting through her hair makes her melt into relaxation, and she lays back over him. She sighs softly, happily, and moves her worshipful attentions to his lips.
It's a change, being the one who is worshipped, and it does not come
easily. Gale can't shake the feeling that he's not doing enough, hasn't
earned this affection. He keeps the thought to himself, not wanting to ruin
the moment. "I suppose you might as well sleep here," he says between
kisses. "I mean, if you want to, of course. You don't have to, and you're
still welcome to the guest room, if you prefer it."
Harley sits back on her calves and takes a moment to just ... admire him. Her hands press against his chest and her fingers flex a little, like she wants to dig a home in his heart.
"I want to do a lot of things here," she admits. She licks her lips. "There is something I want to try, if you'll let me. It doesn't have to be now. But, soon, I want to get you to the edge of the limit and hold you there."
"Oh." Gale shivers, though he isn't cold — far from it, in fact. His skin
feels deliciously aflame, and his traitorous cock twitches, threatening to
rouse itself for the second time tonight at the images Gale's mind supplies
unbidden.
"Yes," tumbles from his lips before his brain has even caught up. "That
is..." But the brain does always catch up eventually. "Not... Perhaps not
tonight?" The words come out uncertain. If she pushed, he knows he would
fold like paper, that he would put her happiness above safety and reason.
"I need to do some calculations, run some tests. I should be able to figure
out the parameters if... Well, suffice to say, I need to be ready."
"Aha. Sexy science," she coos. Her nails lightly scratch his chest.
He's trying to set a limit. A good partner would respect that, put her clothes back on, fold around him under the blankets and drift to sleep. She wants to be a good partner. She wants, she wants, that's the problem.
"Do you–" She licks her lips and her gaze follows the lines of his body from her position perched over his thighs. "Do you still want to watch?"
"Sexy science," he echoes with a smitten smile, and maybe he was going to say more, but the nails on his chest make him suck in a sharp breath that takes any thoughts he had away with it.
"Yes." Usually, Gale prevaricates and prattles, but not this time. The wisdom of this choice is irrelevant -- he does want, incredibly badly, and perhaps a small indulgence would be alright? If he feels too close to exploding (literally, rather than figuratively), he can always put a halt to things. He lights his hands on her hips, looking up at her like she is the moon. "If that's what you want, too."
"Yes," she answers, sounding a little dazed and fucked out already. Her skin feels like it shimmers under his hands. Her teeth catch the her lip and she shifts her legs apart, raises up on her knees, and lets him see.
She touches his plush mouth with two fingers and presses in slowly. "Suck for me, baby? Get me wet."
Gale half sits up, propping himself on one elbow to get a better view. He
takes her fingers like sacrament, his worshipful gaze never leaving her
face.
Keen to show that his oral skills are good for more than just gab, he puts
his dextrous tongue to work, circling her fingertips before bobbing his
head forward until his front teeth hit her top knuckles. It has been quite
some time since he was physically romantic with anyone on the material
plane, but he has clearly done this before, and he enjoys it immensely.
Harley's brain genuinely stops working for a minute. She leans forward as his ardent attention captures all her senses. She can too easily picture how he earned his skills, and she's seen how much of himself he devotes to his various studies. One day, Gale will be able to give her a full demonstration. She has faith.
She takes a shuddering breath as her thoughts come back online. Her fingers press down into his tongue
"Good. Perfect."
Her fingers slowly withdraw from his mouth, with a fond parting press of her thumb on his lip. She draws back and reaches down to slide her fingers inside, her palm held firm against her clit, before she remembers what he'd said before. Slow, gentle. She deserves to be treated gently. Her hand shifts to touch herself in a different way. Light, sure strokes teasing her pussy for him.
"Yes," he rasps, "It is the most exquisite and delicious torture in
existence."
He reaches for her, remembers that he can't do that, moves to touch
himself, remembers he can't do that either, and sighs. As if not
content to drop his hand without taking some kind of action, he casts a
mage hand with small, efficient gestures. Through this disembodied proxy,
he gently pushes the hair out of her eyes, then trails blue fingers down
her cheek. "I wish that I could touch you, that I could show you how much I
long for you, that I could pleasure you every way imaginable and then,
together, we could come up with ten new ways." The mage hand traces her
jaw, the line of her throat, her collarbone, down to cup her breast. "For
now, I will memorize every moment of this. Show me what you like, I want to
learn you."
She gasps at the touch. Mage hand doesn't have body heat or the same tactile sensation against her skin, but he made it so it's Gale's hand. A moan tumbles past her lips and she arches into his spectral palm.
She slides two fingers into her slick opening up to the last knuckle. Her breath catches and stutters at each flex of her hand.
He wants to hurry her to completion. He also wants to tell her to go slow,
to draw it out so that he can watch forever, spending the rest of his life
in this moment. Every flex and twitch of her body is a budding addiction,
until he can no longer stand being deprived of the feel of her skin. He
sits up further and reaches for her, though it's only to cup her cheek and
jaw.
"You are so fiercely beautiful, you burn through the shadows that have
enveloped me. Yes, yes, just like that, love. When you touch yourself like
this, your pleasure makes you positively glow, and I am grateful to even be
witness to your radiance."
Through his control, the ghostly hand traces her skin, circling her nipple
with the pad of its thumb in a way he vividly imagines doing with his own
tongue.
"Fuck," he murmurs, so soft that it doesn't seem intended for her
ears, because in this moment even his vast cache of words fails him.
The noise she makes at a simple touch is wretched. A wounded, desperate whimper that takes her by surprise as the brush of his hand against her face nearly makes her come. He's so warm and here and real and hers and oh gods she's his too. She licks a hot stripe up his thumb and sucks it into her mouth.
The meaning of his words is background noise that she'll remember hours later in a giddy rush. Right now she's too lost in the buzzy, fevered pleasure and lets the sound of his voice wash over and wrap around her. It's a struggle to make her eyes focus on him when they want to roll back, but she manages even when a ghostly blue touch teases her nipple. She whines again around his thumb and her lashes cast fluttery crescent shadows across her cheeks as she nearly loses it again.
Then his voice is suddenly so soft and low that she has to strain to make out what he said and-- Gods, that does it. Her pleasure crests and breaks like a wave against the shore. Her mouth goes slack and sighs out his name like a prayer.
"Yes, yes, that's it, just like that. You are so beautiful, and I love watching you like this. Come for me," he murmurs, gently talking her through her orgasm. He is enraptured with the sight before him, the way she trembles as the pleasure washes over her in waves. He runs his saliva slicked thumb over her lower lip, desperate to kiss her, but this will do for now. "Come here, Harley," he says once it's through, tugging her into his embrace with a kiss on the forehead. "I love you."
It takes a minute for Harley to come back to her senses, which she spends laid over him like a blanket and panting hot air against his shoulder. She noses against his throat, seeking his pulse and breathing in the scent of him.
"I love you too," she answers in a soft raspy whisper. "It doesn't feel like enough to just say it back, but it's true and I can't think of many other words right now."
She's so hot, until she isn't anymore, naked sweat soaked skin cooling
until goosebumps dance over her pale arms. It takes some wiggling, but he
manages to grab a blanket to pull up over them both. "Don't worry, we have
plenty of time to discover all the words for what this is, my love."
"I wish you had, but..." He kisses her forehead. "I wouldn't change
anything, not even the orb, if that's what it took for me to end up in your
path." With her tucked in against him, he brings up a hand to smooth over
her hair again and again.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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"I'm hard to swallow?"
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"I would love nothing more than to swallow you."
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It's a change, being the one who is worshipped, and it does not come easily. Gale can't shake the feeling that he's not doing enough, hasn't earned this affection. He keeps the thought to himself, not wanting to ruin the moment. "I suppose you might as well sleep here," he says between kisses. "I mean, if you want to, of course. You don't have to, and you're still welcome to the guest room, if you prefer it."
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"I want to do a lot of things here," she admits. She licks her lips. "There is something I want to try, if you'll let me. It doesn't have to be now. But, soon, I want to get you to the edge of the limit and hold you there."
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"Oh." Gale shivers, though he isn't cold — far from it, in fact. His skin feels deliciously aflame, and his traitorous cock twitches, threatening to rouse itself for the second time tonight at the images Gale's mind supplies unbidden.
"Yes," tumbles from his lips before his brain has even caught up. "That is..." But the brain does always catch up eventually. "Not... Perhaps not tonight?" The words come out uncertain. If she pushed, he knows he would fold like paper, that he would put her happiness above safety and reason. "I need to do some calculations, run some tests. I should be able to figure out the parameters if... Well, suffice to say, I need to be ready."
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He's trying to set a limit. A good partner would respect that, put her clothes back on, fold around him under the blankets and drift to sleep. She wants to be a good partner. She wants, she wants, that's the problem.
"Do you–" She licks her lips and her gaze follows the lines of his body from her position perched over his thighs. "Do you still want to watch?"
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"Yes." Usually, Gale prevaricates and prattles, but not this time. The wisdom of this choice is irrelevant -- he does want, incredibly badly, and perhaps a small indulgence would be alright? If he feels too close to exploding (literally, rather than figuratively), he can always put a halt to things. He lights his hands on her hips, looking up at her like she is the moon. "If that's what you want, too."
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She touches his plush mouth with two fingers and presses in slowly. "Suck for me, baby? Get me wet."
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Gale half sits up, propping himself on one elbow to get a better view. He takes her fingers like sacrament, his worshipful gaze never leaving her face.
Keen to show that his oral skills are good for more than just gab, he puts his dextrous tongue to work, circling her fingertips before bobbing his head forward until his front teeth hit her top knuckles. It has been quite some time since he was physically romantic with anyone on the material plane, but he has clearly done this before, and he enjoys it immensely.
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She takes a shuddering breath as her thoughts come back online. Her fingers press down into his tongue
"Good. Perfect."
Her fingers slowly withdraw from his mouth, with a fond parting press of her thumb on his lip. She draws back and reaches down to slide her fingers inside, her palm held firm against her clit, before she remembers what he'd said before. Slow, gentle. She deserves to be treated gently. Her hand shifts to touch herself in a different way. Light, sure strokes teasing her pussy for him.
"Do you see how I want you?"
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"Yes," he rasps, "It is the most exquisite and delicious torture in existence."
He reaches for her, remembers that he can't do that, moves to touch himself, remembers he can't do that either, and sighs. As if not content to drop his hand without taking some kind of action, he casts a mage hand with small, efficient gestures. Through this disembodied proxy, he gently pushes the hair out of her eyes, then trails blue fingers down her cheek. "I wish that I could touch you, that I could show you how much I long for you, that I could pleasure you every way imaginable and then, together, we could come up with ten new ways." The mage hand traces her jaw, the line of her throat, her collarbone, down to cup her breast. "For now, I will memorize every moment of this. Show me what you like, I want to learn you."
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She slides two fingers into her slick opening up to the last knuckle. Her breath catches and stutters at each flex of her hand.
no subject
He wants to hurry her to completion. He also wants to tell her to go slow, to draw it out so that he can watch forever, spending the rest of his life in this moment. Every flex and twitch of her body is a budding addiction, until he can no longer stand being deprived of the feel of her skin. He sits up further and reaches for her, though it's only to cup her cheek and jaw.
"You are so fiercely beautiful, you burn through the shadows that have enveloped me. Yes, yes, just like that, love. When you touch yourself like this, your pleasure makes you positively glow, and I am grateful to even be witness to your radiance."
Through his control, the ghostly hand traces her skin, circling her nipple with the pad of its thumb in a way he vividly imagines doing with his own tongue.
"Fuck," he murmurs, so soft that it doesn't seem intended for her ears, because in this moment even his vast cache of words fails him.
no subject
The meaning of his words is background noise that she'll remember hours later in a giddy rush. Right now she's too lost in the buzzy, fevered pleasure and lets the sound of his voice wash over and wrap around her. It's a struggle to make her eyes focus on him when they want to roll back, but she manages even when a ghostly blue touch teases her nipple. She whines again around his thumb and her lashes cast fluttery crescent shadows across her cheeks as she nearly loses it again.
Then his voice is suddenly so soft and low that she has to strain to make out what he said and-- Gods, that does it. Her pleasure crests and breaks like a wave against the shore. Her mouth goes slack and sighs out his name like a prayer.
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"I love you too," she answers in a soft raspy whisper. "It doesn't feel like enough to just say it back, but it's true and I can't think of many other words right now."
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She's so hot, until she isn't anymore, naked sweat soaked skin cooling until goosebumps dance over her pale arms. It takes some wiggling, but he manages to grab a blanket to pull up over them both. "Don't worry, we have plenty of time to discover all the words for what this is, my love."
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"You're perfect," she sighs. "You're everything I've been looking for. I should have found you first."
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"I wish you had, but..." He kisses her forehead. "I wouldn't change anything, not even the orb, if that's what it took for me to end up in your path." With her tucked in against him, he brings up a hand to smooth over her hair again and again.