demainvient | 𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒏.

𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒏.

𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 ⊹ 𝒆𝒑𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒓𝒚 ⊹ 𝒗𝒊𝒔𝒖𝒂𝒍

[ Lune's last stitch of clothing is gone, cool air licking at her heated skin as she tries to steady her breathing, taking the moment to similarly just look at him beneath heavy eyelids. She's never seen him like this, mussed and breathless, the same impatient hunger in his eyes she knows resides in her own. It's insanely appealing, and she's about to shake off her passivity to tackle his pants next, to get him as naked as she so they can finally—

But Gustave moves first, and she isn't expecting him to begin inching downward, surprised into stillness for a second. A ragged little whimper escapes her when his mouth descends further down from her hip and she catches onto what's about to happen, her thoughts moving slowly from the heady onslaught of arousal. She jolts a little, a dash of uncertainty licking through her even as she shudders at the way the backs of her thighs pillow against his arms and shoulders, swallowing dryly as his lips love the sensitive inside of one thigh. It's intimate and vulnerable being this blatantly exposed, things that Lune isn't well-versed in, and yet a quiver of helpless excitement ripples across her skin regardless. ]

Gustave... y-you don't have to—

[ But if she really wanted to put a stop to it, she would have already. And when his mouth finds the hot center of her, the moan that gets dragged out of her is loud and filled with relief-soaked pleasure, her head dropping back to the rumpled uniform beneath her, eyes squeezed shut and fingers clawing at the grass as sheer sensation punches through her, relentless as a tidal wave. ]

[ He doesn't have to, he knows it, but he's driven all the same, all his focus bent on a single thought: to give her just a few moments of something other than grief and fear and the strange muffling shock that's been covering both of them since they stumbled their way out of that cave.

She dragged him back into life, bullying and shoving. This, doing everything he can to bring her back into her body the way she did for him, can't even begin to touch the debt he owes to her, the apologies he owes to her. He'd been cruel, thoughtlessly, in his temper, and she hadn't deserved it, no matter if she'd accepted his apologies.

That bright moon is dark overhead now, cast behind some clouds, and some part of him is almost glad to have the excuse not to be able to push forward, to be able to offer her this for just a little while. The little cry she gives arrows straight through him, hot and sharp, and he responds by pressing his mouth more firmly to her, sucking and licking at that hard bud of nerves between her legs, pressing kiss after kiss to her core.

He shifts just enough to put his weight more on his right elbow, slipping his metal left hand from under her thigh and sliding his fingers, cool against slick, heated flesh, between her legs to rub over her, to push her gently apart so he can lave her with the flat of his tongue in long, firm licks before he draws up on that sensitive flesh with his mouth. He's always been single-minded and focused in his work, and now he turns all that focus on her, ignoring for the moment the way his own trousers strain, the heat between his own legs. ]

[ There's no debt, as far as she's concerned, but that's an argument to be had some other time. Some other time when she isn't actively losing her mind to the molten pleasure filling every inch of her, pushing out everything else; every thought and every other sensation effectively blotted out— hell, she'd nearly forgotten the human body is actually capable of experiencing pleasure like this.

She cries out again at the feel of his artificial fingers stroking her, the shock of coolness against the wet heat of her making her entire frame shudder, trembling thighs opening wide to invite more of his touch, everything else driven from her head that isn't a hunger for more, more, more. Her breath comes in heaving, heavy pants, loud in the quiet of the night, every exhale tinged with a faint moan as he edges her steadily ever higher, every lick and suck to the most sensitive parts of her driving her insane with pure wanting. Her heart hammers against her ribs and her thighs tremor harder, her hips squirming restlessly now; she sinks the fingers of one hand into Gustave's hair and holds on for dear life while the other finds her own breast, trapping a hard nipple between her thumb and forefinger. ]

Merde— please... [ She barely realizes she's pleading amidst her sighs and moans, so close now she can almost taste it. ]

[ Lune writhes and squirms in the night air, the pale gleam of starlight glowing across her skin, catching in her hair, a fervid dream of desire made flesh. Each throaty little call that tugs from her throat slams into him like shots of chroma, jolting straight to his groin as she presses up into his mouth, her body a pale, perfect arch. He feels her shudder at the touch of his metal hand, and as she pushes her thighs further apart, he slips one cool hard finger inside her, sliding deep before curling toward himself, seeking out the spot there that will make her see stars.

Gustave hums against her as he works her over with lips and tongue and mouth and that slender finger inside her, pushing her recklessly onward. As much as he wants to push himself up, to let her shove the rest of his clothing away and sink into her, he wants this more: Lune, helpless and unfettered, moaning at every lick of his tongue, one hand wound into his hair and the other hard on her own body.

She's begging now, and he only hums again and redoubles his efforts, sliding a second finger into her now, pressing both deeply into her and sliding them back out again, almost to the tip, fucking her with hand and mouth and doing his best to bring her all the way to the peak of her pleasure. ]

[ Lune's hand drops from her chest to claw at the ground and fist their discarded clothing when his inorganic finger slips inside her, the shock of cold against hot flesh feeling divine; her entire frame jolts at the sensation, hips lifting and rolling into the touch even as she bites down on another moan, her abdomen drawing up tight for a spell at the intensity of the pleasure punching through her. Coupled with his relentless mouth, the sensations he's eliciting in her threaten to entirely unhinge her.

Which seems to be objective; Lune groans and shudders all over when he adds a second finger, the stretch an incredible pain-pleasure that has her seeing stars– behind her lids as her eyes squeeze shut, not the ones literally hanging overhead. Her insides are drawing up tighter and tighter after every moment, already climbing toward her peak. Her skin feels hot and too tight for her body, pleasure ravaging her, making her shake and shudder as she lifts her hips and meets his mouth and fingers harder, chasing the high that's just out of reach.

Until suddenly it isn't.

She breathes a curse that morphs into a sharp cry of relief when she breaks, her spine bowing and heated body squeezing eagerly around his fingers as she comes, the pent up tension and frustration expelled in the form of an intense orgasm. She doesn't bother muffling her noises of enjoyment as she rides out her climax, desperately trying not to snap her tremoring thighs around Gustave's head. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒏.

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resurrecting this like yen performing necromancy!!!

heck yesss