[A moan is such a simple, trivial little sound. Except in the throes of passion. Balthier hardly has to expend effort to encourage her breath to hitch in the slender column of her throat. She regains it when he gives her the opportunity to thread her fingers between his. It's such a romantic gesture. Another thing she's not expected in any such lingering of him behind closed doors. Not that the first time he took her to his bed wasn't romantic. It was. Frighteningly so. In fact it was so romantic that many of her concerns had been birthed there.
She still feels that uncertainty tugging along her insides. That every moment they grow closer is a more dangerous moment. A heavily-weighted one that will, at some point, all come crashing down. It will be worse for one of them, she suspects, unless they should, for one reason or another, be plucked from this world at the same time. There is a tint of guilt in there as well, for a multitude of reasons that Aerith can't possibly be comfortable diving into. Balthier silences a great deal of all of this, but bits and pieces continue to settle, as if they might never simply disappear.
"I've missed you."
His words come in between the soft doting he presses upon her most sensitive places. Ripples of pleasure scale up along her, leaving fingertips and toes tingling. The coil of pleasure that houses in the small of her back, tightly wound, plucked by his devotion and his affections. It rises, pushed to the same precipice that she can't see with eyes, but that she can feel perfectly with her every trembling inch.
And she has her own effect on him, though she would argue that she does so very little. If anything, it's that she doesn't want him staring at her overmuch. Doesn't want him to take her in. Doesn't want him to witness an Aerith at her most vulnerable. Already she feel weak in his presence. Already he knows that he is her greatest weakness the way things stand.
In an attempt to alleviate the growing pleasure that pulls its way up along the turns of her body, leave her breathless with teeth scraping over her bottom lip, she adjusts the way her thigh lingers over his shoulder. Her toes pinch and curl. Eyebrows knit together, betraying the splinters in her composure.]
You mean—
[She knows what he means. Well, she thinks she knows what he means, even if she can't quite put words to it.]
no subject
She still feels that uncertainty tugging along her insides. That every moment they grow closer is a more dangerous moment. A heavily-weighted one that will, at some point, all come crashing down. It will be worse for one of them, she suspects, unless they should, for one reason or another, be plucked from this world at the same time. There is a tint of guilt in there as well, for a multitude of reasons that Aerith can't possibly be comfortable diving into. Balthier silences a great deal of all of this, but bits and pieces continue to settle, as if they might never simply disappear.
"I've missed you."
His words come in between the soft doting he presses upon her most sensitive places. Ripples of pleasure scale up along her, leaving fingertips and toes tingling. The coil of pleasure that houses in the small of her back, tightly wound, plucked by his devotion and his affections. It rises, pushed to the same precipice that she can't see with eyes, but that she can feel perfectly with her every trembling inch.
And she has her own effect on him, though she would argue that she does so very little. If anything, it's that she doesn't want him staring at her overmuch. Doesn't want him to take her in. Doesn't want him to witness an Aerith at her most vulnerable. Already she feel weak in his presence. Already he knows that he is her greatest weakness the way things stand.
In an attempt to alleviate the growing pleasure that pulls its way up along the turns of her body, leave her breathless with teeth scraping over her bottom lip, she adjusts the way her thigh lingers over his shoulder. Her toes pinch and curl. Eyebrows knit together, betraying the splinters in her composure.]
You mean—
[She knows what he means. Well, she thinks she knows what he means, even if she can't quite put words to it.]
—That's... You shouldn't say that when you're...