warriorborn | (no subject)

Well this evening took a turn she had not hoped for nor anticipated. He was taking this hard, as to be expected. Most, if not all men would feel the same sense of embarrassment but she thinks that Benedict takes failure harder than most. When he finally looks at her and apologies, she tuts at him and leans over to kiss him, despite the positioning of his lips.

"You have not a thing to apologize for." She smooths a hand lazily over his chest, finally able to touch it for herself after weeks of only feeling his chest through his various clothing. "You might be more comfortable if you undress, I feel as though we are quite unequal at the moment."

"This is appalling," he complains, though he sounds a little bit less like he's about to throw himself off the edge of the Spire.

It helps that she's kissing him, and rubbing her hand over the planes of his chest. It's a little more reassuring than he'd like to admit; Benedict, probably due to his warriorborn genes, very much likes being petted. It's incredibly soothing, to have such a repetitive touch applied to him, and whether it's her running her fingers through his hair, or stroking her hand over his chest, it does calm him down rather quickly.

Sighing, he shifts his legs and toes out of his boots, kicking them off the end of her bed, before reaching for the waistband of his trousers.

He grimaces as he unfastens them and starts to push them down his hips; apparently the embarrassment of a premature orgasm has washed aside whatever other embarrassment he might have felt at displaying his naked body in front of an interested party, as he kicks the trousers off too once they get down far enough, flopping dramatically back onto her mattress with another put-upon sigh.

For a moment, he reminds her a little of her brother when they were younger. Only in that petulant, pouting sort of way. Although that's where the comparison stops, considering he's getting naked, huffing about it the whole time. She tried to reassure him that it's nothing to fret about and yet, he's taking it quite to heart.

Reminding herself that he is young and his pride is currently wounded, she lets him do what he must to get undressed before he falls back against the bed. She remains sitting up, although she moves to prop herself up against the headboard, eyebrows lifted.

In her, perhaps more hedonistic, mind, pleasure is pleasure, not matter however embarrassing it was. If anyone should be displeased, it should be her and for now, the only thing that is putting her off is his reaction to what just happened. "Was it so horrible?"

Ninon moves to sit beside him, leaning back against the ornate headboard of her bed, seemingly unimpressed with his dramatics. While he can sympathize with her position, he still feels like he is fully validated in all his moaning and carrying on, but now that the initial surge of utter mortification has abated somewhat, he forces himself to think more rationally about this whole thing and pushes aside the urge to curl up and hide and instead rolls onto his side so that he can put his hand on her thigh and look up at her.

"Yes, but..." But not for the reason she apparently thinks. He reaches for her hand and lifts it to his lips to kiss her fingers, somehow shocked that he can smell her on them even though he had watched her touch herself with them not five minutes ago. Even though he has just orgasmed, the smell of her so close has a little frisson of want curling through him. Perhaps she was right about it only taking a few minutes before they can try again.

"You were magnificent. It is I who was the disappointment."

He is free to feel what he needs to feel but she does not think so badly of what has happened. It is not as though it puts an end to their night. He is young and undoubtedly virile, she suspects that his warriorborn side will it make it possible for his body to bounce back rather quickly.

It is something to be laughed about later, to be sure. But not the end of the world.

He seems to come to his senses, somewhat, turning to look at her. His touch is hot against already warmed, flushed skin and she shivers slightly because of it as he explains what he means. She rolls her eyes good-naturedly at such a statement, her hand reaching out to comb through his hair. "You are not a disappointment, Benedict. There are so many ways to be together, to feel good. We both found our pleasure together, in each other's company. I do not see that as a failure. I am sorry that you do."

Her fingers in his hair produce the expected result: Benedict's eyelids drift down for a moment, a small pleased smile curling his lips, and he leans into the touch. Just like a Cat, it seems.

Shifting a little closer, he bends his head and kisses the edge of her rib cage, smiling against her skin and resisting the urge to pull her hand closer again so he can lick her fingers. She would probably find that strange, and he's been strange enough for one night.

"It seems there is much you have to teach me," he teases.

Perhaps she would not find it as strange as he might think. But for now, she cannot read his mind and she simply grins at him when he says she can teach him so much. "Oh, I will teach you many things." She gives his head a gentle tug by the hair, trying to coax him up higher. "Come here."

"I look forward to it," he murmurs, shifting to get an arm beneath himself so he can do as she urges and crawl a little closer, presumably so she can kiss him. Benedict is not going to complain, he quite enjoys kissing.

Except that the moment their mouths are even, she makes a move to flip their positions, wanting him to be sitting up against the headboard with her perched in his lap. If he complies, she'll settle there, pressing their bodies warmly together. "There, much better."

Biddable as always, Benedict lets himself be shoved back so that he is the one leaning against her head board instead of she, allowing her plenty of room to swing a leg over his lap so that she can perch on his thighs, pinning him down to the bed with her weight.

It would be a lie to say the move exactly surprised him, as he could feel her muscles bunching beneath her skin as she prepared to shift their positions, but he probably wouldn't have thought of it himself, so when he settles and she is sitting in his lap, he lets out a little huff of breath that could be a laugh if one was feeling charitable.

Settling his hands on her hips, and then spreading his fingers wide and sliding his hands up and around her back, touching as much of her at once as he can, he grins at her, for a moment forgetting about his teeth.

"I confess, this was not what I pictured when I considered how tonight would end," he says.

Settling in his lap like she belongs there, she smirks at him when he lets his hands roam over her skin. This is what she wants, she wants him to be comfortable and happy, to touch her without reservation.

And when he grins at her, she feels her heart skip a beat, a flutter in her stomach and it takes all her willpower not to lean forward and steal a kiss. "What is it that you pictured?" As in, how should have his night ended?

In all honesty, she mostly knew the answer but she finds that she likes to hear him speak about anything and everything. And this gives her a chance to run her fingers along his chest, to feel him.

Though he has never allowed himself to indulge in it, Benedict is secretly something of a hedonist. This moment, with all of Ninon's pale, lovely skin pressed against his, fulfills something inside himself he has almost never looked at. If he was given his druthers, he might wish to remain here for hours. Sadly, he knows he will have to leave well before the night is through, but for now, he can indulge.

"Well, I had mostly been expecting to bid you a good night and return to my bed alone."

He had certainly not imagined he would be sitting in her bed, with her hands brushing across his chest, her knees bracketing his hips.

"How lonely and boring," she murmurs idly, a little distracted by the way he's touching her and by the feel of his skin beneath her fingers. And after a moment, she cannot help but lean down and draw her lips along his neck and over his shoulder. "Do you even realize how glorious you are?"

He sighs, a small little shiver skittering over his skin in the wake of her hot breath washing over his shoulder, followed quickly by her lips.

"I am a rather boring man, Ninon," he protests, his hands flexing on her back. "I was a monk, remember?"

"Monks rarely look this good naked," she says with amusement against his skin, sucking gently at his neck, stopping short of leaving a mark. For now. Her hand, however, wanders down his torso, moving slowly, teasingly low along his abdomen.

Edited 2018-12-13 21:42 (UTC)

He rumbles a quiet laugh, the muscles of his abdomen tightening beneath her touch as he tips his head back against the elaborately-carved wooden headboard behind him, so used to extravagant displays of wealth that he doesn't even marvel at the sheer cost her bed must have run, too busy marveling at the feel of all her warm skin beneath his fingers.

"Seen many a naked monk, have you?" he teases, feeling oddly disappointed when she lifts her mouth from his skin and doesn't continue to suck until the blood rises to the surface.

"You're my first." She is very distracted right now, her conversation will be limited. Because right now, she's decided to let her hand slide down even lower, just short of touching him intimately. Her mouth finds the space beneath his ear. "May I touch you?"

For some reason, Benedict has been manfully trying not to think about the fact that all of Ninon's lovely warm skin has been oh-so close to his cock. It seems disrespectful, somehow, to let himself be aware of the fact that her weight is nearly perched directly over his groin, and should she wish to move a little closer, he might wind up poking her with it.

That seems to be a moot point, though, as her wandering hand quickly starts to wander quite close to the very part of his body he is trying so hard not to think about.

"Yes," he breathes, instead of the what a stupid question he'd been trying to articulate, unable to joke any longer when the promise of physical contact is so close at hand. Literally.

If she knew his thoughts, she'd wonder why he was so determined to keep his mind off his cock when it's absolutely on hers. They are both so delightfully naked, what better time to think of each other's bodies and the way they are pressed together? It's not as though it would be unacceptable for him to be aroused, given what she means to do with him as soon as he's able.

With his permission, she lets her hand wander past the hard plane of his abdomen and over a tussle of undoubtedly neatly kept hair to slide her fingers over his cock, just to get a feel for it. After all, she'd barely been able to catch a glance at it, let alone touch it. "My, my," she murmurs, looking up at him with a little fire in her eyes. "I certainly do not find you lacking."

Edited 2018-12-14 03:25 (UTC)

Benedict is far more used to thinking of his body as a tool, a weapon of sorts, than an instrument of pleasure. He does not often touch himself, because he does not have the imagination for masturbation or because he often lives in close proximity to others, he isn't sure. He certainly has not compared himself to others, beset with curiosity and the need to posture with his peers, aware of his place in the social hierarchy and knowing that there was very little he could do to jostle his way higher to the top.

Still, the novelty of having a hand not his own touch his cock, combined with Ninon's warmly amused voice, is enough to have him stiffening in her grasp, hopefully proving her point.

"I...don't know what to say to that," he confesses on a laugh, fighting the urge to squirm beneath her.

She laughs softly with him, leaning in to press her lips to his in a playful, brief kiss. "You needn't say anything." And that was the truth. It was a compliment, no thanks were required or needed. Especially that his cock is doing the talking for him, so to speak. His body reacts to her touch almost instantly and she smiles to herself thinking that must be glory of youth and inexperience.

Her touch is far less hesitant now, her fingers curl around him, her thumb rubbing over the tip of his cock to coax more out of him. "I want to feel you inside of me. I suppose you might find that tolerable?"

Well, she's going to get what she wants, if she keeps speaking to him like that, especially when combined with the way she rubs her fingers over his flesh. There is much to be said for having a partner with experience, Benedict decides, and quietly laments that he cannot be more than an eager pupil for her, though she does not seem to mind very much.

He groans in response to her question, his head falling back with a thump against the headboard as his cock twitches eagerly in her grasp.

"Please," is all he can manage, now that the majority of the blood in his body has swiftly descended south.

There is nothing to lament in her mind. While it is nice to be with someone who has experience, there is something to be said about being able to teach him everything she knows, to be able to almost train him to be just as she needs him to be while in her bed. In any other situation, he may have the upper hand physically but here, here is where she is in complete control. It feels good.

Grinning at his answer, she nods. "That is good." However, she does not move to align their bodies just right, to sink down upon him with the knowledge that he will only grow harder once he's inside of her. Instead, her mouth moves along his throat, down his chest, leaving his skin wet with open mouth kisses as she moves her way down his chest.

Pausing, she looks up at him, nuzzling (perhaps vexingly) at his nipple. "Shall I use my mouth on you or would you prefer we jump right in?" Perhaps it was unfair, to tease him so, to force him into making decisions in a moment such as these.

She can mold him to be exactly how she likes him, and he will be an eager and willing pupil, applying the entirety of his not inconsiderable intellect towards doing exactly what he is told and remembering it for later. For now, however, he simply groans at her in lieu of a proper response, his hard cock already aching in her grasp.

"Ninon," he all but whines, losing the battle he waged against squirming, shifting restlessly beneath her as she mouths at his chest in a highly distracting manner.

"That was hardly an answer," she says with an impish grin. But she knows what he wants, what he's impatient for even if he has no idea what it will be like. She is impatient for it too, her body warms just thinking of how it will feel to have him inside of her. So she bites gently at his chest, just above his nipple on her way back up his body.

It's a quick journey, she simply moves to settle back on his lap, moving to take his hands and set them on her waist. "Hold on tight," she instructs him, perhaps meaning it figuratively more than literally. The last thing she wants is for him to come undone as quickly as he had the first time.

Kneeling more above him, she once again grasps his cock, guiding him between her thighs but not quite where they both want to be. She slides the tip of him against her slick skin, her eyes lifting to meet with his before the flutter a little. "Tell me you want me, Benedict."