[He had told her he wanted to see her dance; now, he thinks about how nice it is to hear her sing those little notes of pleasure and the rhythms behind them – rhythms that he's growing (or so he hopes) increasingly attuned to the more he tastes and touches and teases. As if on cue, a curse spills through his lips as her words land against his ear, a little duet between them, and he delivers another gentle nip, trouble for trouble.]
You have, huh?
[Whether his fingers and his tongue have been on her mind for a short while or a longer one, it's a nice thought, the idea that maybe while he was off scouting and she was curled up by the fire – or vice-versa – they were connected by having these shared flames to stoke inside themselves, each giving off little sparks for the other to collect. And being seen as someone other than the whats and whys and lies of his existence is always a good feeling, even if it is one that he often questions whether he deserves.
No questions plague his mind now – or at least none about himself and whether he belongs here with Sciel. Even to him, it's clear that he does, and so he rumbles again at the notion of having to part so he can address his state of dress, hardly wanting to move. The cause is good though – very good – and as he pulls away yet again and starts working himself free of his clothes, the quirk to his smile makes it clear how invested he is in this next step.]
What else have you been thinking about?
[The shirt comes off first and relatively fast owing to its perpetually half-unbuttoned state. Once it's been tossed aside, making an unceremonious landing on the floor, he makes similarly quick work of his boots and his socks. A pause before he takes off his pants, though, thumbs lingering beneath the waistband of both them and his underwear.]
Because, you see, I've been thinking about giving you whatever you want.
[As for what he wants, in this moment it's simple: for this to be the last time he has to pull away from her to handle something else. So, when he does start taking off his pants, the underwear goes with them, and he stands there naked for a moment, unbothered by it as he kicks everything he's shed aside, before he leans back over her again, one hand making its way towards the topmost fastening of her own pants.]
[ The song, the dance, continues. Her words at his ear draw out his curse, which in turn has her exhale in a hiss at the rough sweetness of his voice. And it's sweeter still to be able to re-contextualize all parts of Verso that had previously only existed to her as belonging to a fellow combatant, expeditioner, and friend: the well-honed arms of a fighter, the warm, low lilt of his voice when he tries to lighten the mood, the way those striking eyes cut through you. Sciel feels decidedly cut through now, seen in exactly the way that she wants, and his question only serves to further stoke the fire in her belly. ]
About having those fingers and tongue in me. And... [ Comes the reply, feather-light, as she again trails her eyes down the length of his body, lingering meaningfully lower before lifting again. As he withdraws at her request, she trails her fingers along his retreating arm, though her eyes are still on him with rapt attention.
Off goes the shirt, the shoes. It's a nice view on its own, just admiring the slopes and muscles of his torso, smiling in her sideways sort of way as she commits the details to memory. Visual memory, at least, since she intends to map him out with thorough physicality once he rejoins her in the booth. ]
"Whatever I want?" [ Sciel repeats, and there's a hungry sort of warning to the question. ] Well, well. We're off to a very good start, I can tell you that.
[ What does she want? Most immediately: once he slips out of his pants, she takes an unapologetic look across the whole of him, chin lifting slightly in appraisal. The sight of his cock drives another rush of need through her, pooling between her legs, and she drags her teeth across her lower lip as her clit pulses insistently.
Verso is quick to close the distance again, thank god. And though her first instinct is to press her kiss-worn lips to his again, to take him in hand and make him feel the dizzying lust that's building in her, he...has a good reason for the delay, so she permits it with only a short sigh. ]
I think you'd better. [ Sciel replies, moving to take one of his hands in hers and guiding it to press against her sex, where the effects of the night's events so far radiate clearly even through her trousers. ] I'm overheating a bit, myself.
[Verso is vain. No matter how many insistences he's made to the contrary, it's an almost innate part of him, virtually unflappable; when he looks in the mirror he might not like the man who looks back, but he can appreciate the reflection itself. So, he receives every little touch and every lingering look with an eager sort of confidence, a silent yes, I want to be explored. An invitation and impulse often reserved for sex, one of the precious few times when he can embrace this level of freedom and openness and vulnerability that he usually keeps far more in check.
Right now, though, thoughts of being explored fall by the wayside, Sciel's answers to his questions proving far more compelling. They bring a throb to his cock, another rumble to his throat that lingers.]
Just what I wanted to hear.
[Soon, soon, soon, but still with no rush. Even as her reactions intensify, even as his own body begins to rebel against the notion of there being anything left to build up towards. And even as she brings his hand to her heat and the moan he makes gives him entirely away, he chooses soft escalation, running his fingers up and down the seam of her pants, taking in the warmth, the wetness, the way she responds to this, too, before he presses a kiss to her apex and begins relieving her of the rest of her clothing.
He's neater with it than he was with his own, tossing it over to land on his abandoned seat on the other side of the booth. After taking his own moment to rake his eyes over the whole of Sciel, the fantasy of her once again paling in comparison to reality, he manoeuvres himself back over to her, hovering almost nose-to-nose as his hand slowly snakes its way down her toned stomach to dip between her legs. First with gentleness, touch featherlight, rhythm slow and teasing, fingers taking their time in moving to slip between her lips. And when they finally do, he brings pressure to the motion, middle finger just teasing at her entrance before he starts stroking in earnest, nothing targeted for now, just getting a feel for her heat and her wetness and how she does or doesn't move with him.
Once the motion becomes more familiar, more natural, a little less demanding of his focus, he grazes his mouth over hers in a promise of another kiss, should she meet him the rest of the way.]
Not sure that helped with the overheating. But you feel good like this, so I'm not sorry.
[ Verso's vanity needn't worry: Sciel has every intention of exploring him thoroughly before they leave this train. The fact that there's a reasonable chance this could be her one and only opportunity aside: she has a natural curiosity and drive to dig into what makes people tick, and one of the many things she enjoys about sex is that it gives her a very particular way to do so. The sound he makes as she brings his hand to the heat between her legs, for example. The way he immediately strokes along that maddening line, earning him a moan in return, which only intensifies with an unexpected, sweet shock as she feels his lips there, too.
It's been too long, and though she's perfectly capable of taking care of herself when the need arises, this is...better. Much better.
Sciel helps him free her from her bottoms as best she can, settling back in on the bench and beneath his gaze when it's done. Verso is quick to close the distance again, hovering tantalizingly close but not yet moving in for another kiss. Her tongue flits out to wet her own lips in unconscious anticipation, though most of what she's doing is feeling the heat already radiating off their bodies as their skin, newly-bared, offers alluring new possibilities. ...Which he blessedly takes immediate advantage of, one hand drifting beyond her navel to start stroking along her cunt, which has her tip her head back again in another surge of electric bliss, her hips lifting slightly in response. ]
Merde. [ He's barely fingering her -- not yet pressing inside or working her clit -- but it as a more dizzying effect even at this stage than she'd been expecting. Anticipation, maybe? Whatever the case, Sciel is grateful when, once she tilts her head back toward him, he's so easily ensnared in another kiss, which gives her something to channel her buzzing energy into. And the kiss reflects her happily-agitated state: her tongue pressing for entrance, dragging her teeth across his lip, making little, starved sounds in the back of her throat. ]
I'm not sorry, either. [ She breathes, when there's a moment to do so. The non-apology is explained with the floating of her own hand down his torso until she can wrap it around his cock. Her mouth returns to his as she simultaneously drags her nails in the lightest of touches up his length, thumbing in circles at the head once she reaches it. ]
Ça te plaît? [ Comes the question, innocently-posed, with the least-innocent of intentions. ]
[The end is not in sight; a thrilling thought that hits Verso as if his nerves are in suspended supernova, a whole-body anticipation where more than just his cock twitches at the promise of whatever's to come. So, at first he escalates the kiss and not the way he touches her, maintaining that languid rhythm, that tease of his own promise.
At least until Sciel starts making those sounds. Then, he releases a rumble of his own moan and presses a finger against her entrance, slipping it just a bit inside of her on his next stroke down, establishing a new pattern when every time his fingers brush its edges they push in a bit deeper, a bit deeper, until there's room enough for him to curl them as he pumps, keeping them inside now, singularly focused on seeking that sweet spot inside of her.
Not singularly focused for long, though; painted memory of a long-dead man though he may be, he is still very, very human, still only human, and when he feels her fingers make their own downward trek, he hisses in a breath and curses before she even takes him in her hand. It's been too long for him, too, far too fucking long, and he's stricken by a moment of self-consciousness: what if he doesn't last long?
Verso's a stubborn man, though, and one with no short supply of command over himself. This, he repeats as a mantra until her touch escalates and she swallows the deep moan he releases in affirmation, the staccato almost-whimper that follows rising in celebration of that drag of her nails.]
Fuck. [No cheeky comeback this time, no verbal escalation of his own. His own hand stills for a moment, his body too enraptured by the feeling of being touched to remember how to move.] Ca me plait.
[Once his own desires overcome those centralised in his cock and he returns to most of his senses, he shifts his wrist to press his thumb beside her clit. Another finger moves to join the one inside of her, and he slows down just a bit as helps her acclimate to its presence.]
[ Warm and intoxicating, like a bottle (or two) of wine. Rough and exhilarating, like a hard-won fight. The best sex is all of these things and more, and Sciel is bursting at the seams with all of the good chemicals that this has alchemised within her so far. It's a challenge she takes on with enthusiasm: trying to maintain her own focus on the movement of their lips when part of her just wants to lean back and let it all happen, to see what he'd do if left unguided, or unoccupied by her hand and mouth in turn. She does manage it, of course, rising to meet most challenges that come her way in life.
So she continues to kiss him back even as her lips sting, unused to the frequency, the harshness. She drinks up every sound that he makes against her, eagerly swallowing them down and returning with heady utterances of her own. Her free hand rises to first gingerly trace the line of his orbital bone, thumbing along where the scar over his eye sits, before moving more energetically up and into his hair again, finding purchase as if holding on for dear life, or...for sanity, at least.
There's another sharp intake of breath as he begins to press inside, finger steadily burying itself deeper within. Her heart is racing so wildly that she's sure he can hear it, or maybe feel the way her walls pulse around him as he explores farther and farther. Sciel lifts her hips into the song he plays inside her, breaking their kiss again to moan into the open air. ]
Verso... [ The hand that had been entwined with his hair moves instead to his upper back, just beyond his shoulder, and she curls her fingers into the skin with a little bite to further emphasize the way he's steadily unraveling her.
She gets some clarity when his hand slows, allowing her to focus more fully on driving him mad with more precision. So she begins an experimental pattern of her own, languidly pumping him, delicately closing fully over his head between her middle and ring fingers, swiping the eventual bead of precum over him with her thumb. All the while she listens and feels for his reactions, letting them guide the actions that follow.
Until, that is, he fingers her clit directly, clinching it with the pressure of a second finger inside her. Sciel gasps at the immediate lightning that courses through her, causing the tips of her toes to buzz and her head to spin. She's careful not to react in any way that would cause him physical discomfort, of course -- there's presence of mind enough for that, if nothing else -- but her hand does still for a moment around his cock as she lies awash in an exquisite numbness. ]
C'est parfait. [ It's barely a whisper at his ear, but the emphatic honesty of it is unmissable. ] You feel amazing.
[Verso had nearly forgotten how it feels to retreat into someone else rather than into his own mind. It is sensory overload; it is a pandemonium of pleasures long missed. His entire body feels alive and real and vulnerable in ways that it almost never does with its persistent clinging to life, its crafting from paint and memory and grief. And to be sharing it with someone who's getting dangerously close to reading him like a fucking book, yet still wanting to encourage her to turn more pages – even when her fingers find his scar, gentling before they tug at his hair – well, it's not something he can put to words, only to action.
To sound, too, as she matches his intensifications with her own and all he can do is let out a helpless, almost whimper of a moan. There's betrayal to how his hips buck into her touch, his body in eager pursuit of an end that neither his heart nor his mind are willing to see happen so soon. No matter how good it feels.
And it does feel good, so fucking good, to have her in his hand and to be every bit as much in hers, sharing all these expressions of mutuality, whether large or small. Regardless of what any of this will come to mean once they've been brought back down to the chill of winter and the brutality of their mission, at least, he thinks, he'll carry with him the memory of that feeling.
Even so, Sciel had said she wanted to feel so much more than a finger or two inside of her, so when her hand stills on his cock, he takes that as his opportunity to withdraw himself from her touch – though not without a growl of reluctance – to position himself properly between her legs and give her kiss-raw lips a break.
His own lips have only begun their work.]
So do you. [Slowly, he withdraws his fingers from inside of her and sucks them clean.] And, mm, you taste... irrésistible.
[Were his head less clouded with lust and his body less encouraging, he might have added some other dumb comment about going down for seconds or whatever, but no, no, his mouth has better things with which to occupy itself. One hand lands at the innermost part of her thigh; the other, right above her clit. And he fixes her with one last, long look before he wets his lips and drives his tongue inside of her, rumbling out another groan at the collision of heat and taste and wetness on his tongue as he continues working her like his body has forgotten the need to breathe and is sustaining itself instead on whatever reactions he can draw forth from her.
[ It's honestly the sounds he makes that serve, almost more than anything, to unravel her. Verso usually plays everything so cool, so close to the chest, moving about the world with a projected sort of ease that she's only just begun to pick at in their conferences up to this point. So when he seems some of the most vulnerable that she's witnessed so far, it's...well, very sexy. And yes, people could fake or overly-dramatise their reactions in bed, but she feels relatively confident that this is the real deal.
Her own reactions, of course, are similarly genuine. Sciel is not a person who feels much shame, and this is no exception. In fact, she's inclined to provide this sort of affirmation with a partner, anyway: particularly a new one, to ensure they know the effect they're having and to spur them on even further. It's clear, then, from her hitched breaths and shaky moans that he's driving her steadily to the edge as he fingers her, her clit throbbing beneath his fingertips --
And then it stops, and she immediately meets his gaze with an almost wild look, body screaming in protest as she's left, however briefly, with a driving need and a stalled build of orgasm. But...he only shifts downward and she catches on immediately, offering him a shaky smile as her chest rises and falls with the racing demands of her heartbeat.
Those fingers again. There's another sharp hiss of air through her teeth as the sihgt of watching him suck the taste of her from them drives another rush of blood. Before she can comment, or protest, or help quickly guide his head between her legs, he's already repositioning, and then his tongue presses inside her.
The sensation is like a shockwave: the most intense yet. Sciel instinctively curls her toes, hips twitching, as the feeling returns in force. It's overwhelmingly arousing to watch him bob there, pushing within over and over again, and her body opens for him like a flower. Sciel herself watches, enraptured, as she etches these moments and the feelings into her bones before letting it all sweep her away.
It's the beard that does it. The rough tickle of his facial hair provides just enough abrasion to set the whole of her alight, dancing over the parts of her that his attentive tongue doesn't hit directly. With everything combined, it isn't a terribly long time before she utters a long, low moan that's laced with a new flavour of desperation. ]
T'arrête pas. [ She manages to say, bright eyes shining with a warning. A promise. ] I'm almost-...
[The opportunity for Verso to exist absent affectations is rare – so rare that he embraces it in full. It's not simply the sex itself; usually when things lead to that for him, it's a broadly impersonal affair, two lost people pretending that it's possible to be found in the thrust of their bodies, or the heat of shared breath, or glistening sweat and the stars in their eyes. No, the company is its own unfettering, complicated though that will be to explore after the fact, and he doesn't think for a moment to consider what he's revealing about himself. In the end, all he's really doing is proving that he's human, alive and individual in his own right, completely unmysterious in this one thing.
And it's fortunate that Sciel isn't making herself into a mystery in this moment, either. Free and shameless in a way that his cock responds to with a persistent throbbing, an ache he gladly endures because right now, he can't conceive of a greater pleasure in this moment than hearing and feeling and seeing her rise closer and closer and closer to the precipice, can't imagine a better feeling than the chill that her warning sends through him.
Even so, a hum of affirmation is all she'll get in response; he maintains his rhythm, his pace, the depths of his thrusts and the pressure of his thumb. It's only when he feels her reach her climax that he changes things up, slowing down, gentling, guiding her through those final moments until there's nothing left for him to draw forth, and so he withdraws entirely.
Not wanting to go back to crowding her on the seat, he lifts himself up and sits on the table instead, though not without leaning down a little to free a few strands of her hair from the sweat on her brow.]
I like the way you dance. And that look you get in your eyes... just wow.
[ Where some might let their climax wash them away -- tip their heads back, eyes fluttering shut, thoughts all but evaporated -- Sciel is wholly present in it all. The building feeling courses through her in steadily-building ascent, but she keeps her focus anchored on the man, the tongue, that's driving the build. Her hand still holds purchase in the clutch of his hair, her eyes still follow the visible movements of his head like a hawk. She is completely in this moment, this particular moment, savouring it so much more because of the broader context: someone she finds attractive whose company she enjoys who also happens to be eating her out, and every micro-detail she feels and notices as it happens.
It makes the grand finale all the more deeply enjoyable. So when she finally is driven over the peak, Sciel is truly awash in a rare bliss, body shuddering through the orgasm, guided until the end by the calculated conducting of his mouth and thumb. When he eventually withdraws, she does finally tilt her head back against the glass of the window with a euphoric exhale, adopting a slow, easy smile as she revels in the afterglow.
She turns into the brush of his fingers at her hairline, chin lifting slightly. ]
I like the way you play. [ The 'look' that he mentions...isn't gone, either. Because although she's very much still sitting in the sweet comedown, her clit still pulsing with sensitivity...well, apparently, she's got a bit of an appetite. That keen gaze gives him another once-over where he sits, and she shifts a little to position herself beneath him, between his legs, running her hands up the outside of both calves. ] ...I think I'd like to see the look in your eyes, this time.
[ No: she's not yet finished, and by the looks of things, he isn't, either. So Sciel rolls her head to the side as she assesses him, lips pressed together in devil-may-care invitation. ]
I can stay down here, [ She offers slowly, eyes lingering on his cock long enough to make the implication. ] or join you up there. Your choice!
[ Honestly, she'll be perfectly happy either returning the favour or moving up to properly seal the deal, as it were. It's more a matter of his preferences, and...well, staying power. ]
[Theoretically, he knew what he was inviting in sitting on the table, legs casually spread, cock not-so-casually hard and wanting between them. In practise, though, the simple act of watching Sciel ride though the climax and the descent of her orgasm, the feeling of her remaining present with him throughout, that look, that fucking look still making her eyes such a bright and captivating shade of green – it's altogether entirely more than he could ever have anticipated.
So, just that gentle grazing of his calves is enough to make him shiver and bring rise to another burst of goosebumps. A heavy breath follows, uneven as what remains of his restraint dissipates into the heated air, and he grateful that he had the frame of mind before to stroke at her hair because now it gives him a distraction as he tries to cobble together what he can of his thoughts to respond to the flirt she'd batted back his way with an effortlessness that also proves a bit overwhelming the more the tables turn.]
Oh yeah?
[Another distraction, another slight delay. There is significant appeal to the thought of her taking him in her mouth and discovering the kind of music she can play with her own fingers and tongue, but staying power is indeed a consideration he needs to make. It's been a long, long time and he wants to make the most of it, wants to make sure that Sciel can get as much as she can out of it, too. And in his mind, that means one thing:]
Get up here. [Don't say it, Verso.] It's the best seat on the train.
[ Sciel laughs. Not unkindly, of course, but with an abrupt earnestness. ]
Terrible. [ She chides, and her previously-mischevious expression twinges into that dangerously fond territory. ...That's a problem for another time, though, and so she merely ducks her gaze briefly, lips coming together, apples of her cheeks lifting.
...Briefly. And then she returns to the task at hand, expression mellowing to something altogether more amorous again before she starts to move.
This is surely not what the little booth and its table are meant for, but since they're the only two making use of the train (as far as she knows), who's left to judge them? So the lithe expeditioner gradually crawls atop the table, moving with steady grace as she places her arms up on the surface, lifts her torso and legs, positioning everything just so. At the end of it all, she's straddling him with her bare thighs on either side of his, face again mere inches from his, breath coming in slow, deep pushes and pulls.
Her body is still technically bouncing back from the beautiful storm he'd wrought, but that doesn't appear to be a deterrent. ]
You were right, [ She says, hips still lifted above his own, though her hand moves gradually down to guide his cock toward her entrance as she speaks. ] the view from here is amazing.
[ And then, carefully, she lowers herself onto him. It's made easier by the foreplay, which allows her to take him in with immediate ease. Even so, she's slow throughout, still very intentional with each step, each new sensation, still very much committing the feeling to memory. So she first presses him within just a little, breath hitching as a fresh wave of desire floods her as if she hadn't been so recently satisfied.
What's the hurry? Every inch of him that further fills that wet heat is another burst of rapture, another rush of blood to the head. ]
[Before Sciel mounts, anticipation does. It's an all-over feeling, like each nerve is existing in a state of rapt anticipation, and Verso breathes and waits and watches and breathes, heart pounding in his chest as she rises like some mythical woman, some kind of embodiment of confidence and light, while he's just a simple man with an obvious want, awestruck over being wanted by someone so wondrous after so many years of feeling like something out of place, like someone cursed to live the rest of his life without meaningful human connection.
It's dramatic. He knows this, so he keeps it at bay, letting it reveal itself in nothing more than his breathing and in the slight jiggling of one of his legs. Which is miraculously doable; his hands find her waist as she lifts herself closer, closer, closer, and he shifts himself back a little more on the table to give her room to do... whatever she wants, whatever she needs.
And if what she wants and needs when she first settles onto his lap, wasting no time in reaching for his cock, is to pull a reaction from him, well, she'll get that too.]
Oh, fuck.
[Maybe not the most dignified response – least of all for the needy noise that follows its speaking – but he's still just a man. In the moment, all else fades besides the way she envelopes him, warm and wet in a just-so sheathing of his just-so throbbing cock. His fingers press just a bit harder into her waist until he catches himself and begins to run his hands along her sides instead, trying – and failing – to match his breathing to the slowness of his own rhythm.]
Yeah. [He says about the view once he remembers he has more to say.] One of the best I've seen.
[Pointedly, and with great honesty, he looks her in the eye as he speaks, head canted at a slight angle. One of his hands runs all the way up body to cup her chin as he pulls himself up into another kiss, soft and short. Sweet in ways he hasn't been able to express in far longer since the last time he's slept with anyone.
[ He'd said he wanted to see her dance earlier, and though she's already done so in a way, this is another moment where the easy grace of her body shines. As she takes him in even deeper, circling her hips over his in lazy circles to ease the motion, torso arced and flowing effortlessly with each movement...her natural fluidity is on display. He may not have actually seen her dance in Lumiére, but he'll get a taste of the experience now, with Sciel clearly reveling in the way that their bodies move together in a kind of dance of their own. ]
Mm, glad you think so. [ Sciel murmurs, splaying her hands against his chest as she proceeds. ] I could get used to this...view.
[ There is definitive colour in her cheeks and sweat beading her hairline as she continues to rock against him, gradually, gradually progressing so she's flush with him.
She sits there a minute, settled and fully drinking up the sensation of the pressure of him within her. And when Verso lifts a little to meet her eyes, to steal another kiss, she leans down to oblige immediately. ]
You do, too. [ Then she's drawing herself up again, smoothing across his chest and shoulders, still working to feel and explore every inch of him. In the meantime, she resumes the motion of her hips, lifting so she can slide along the length of his cock. Some of it means a bit of experimenting with a rhythm that they don't always find together, in that honest awkwardness that happens as a matter of course for new lovers, but for the most part it comes naturally. Music and dance both rely so inherently on rhythm, after all, and...maybe it's their time spent together on and off of the battlefield, but the pair of them already have an underlying synchronicity that makes the sex all the more easy. ]
Fuck. [ Sciel hisses in turn, lips parting in a smile as another thrill of pleasure courses through her. ] Verso...
[The agreement comes out of its own volition, vulnerable in the ease with which it encourages more moments spent slipping away from the others and into an embrace of each other's bodies, his heart vaulting ahead of his still-eager body, his still-captivated mind.
He leans back to take her in – the slope of her body and definition of her muscles, the twinkle of sweat on her skin, the way she moves with impressive ease – and to give her more room to manoeuvrer her hips and himself more leverage to rock into her in turn, though he stays still for now, letting her establish her own rhythm, relying on his body to commit it to memory whilst his thoughts are so thickly clouded by pleasure and desire and promise alike. And maybe he's still a little off once he starts to move; maybe he lets out a laugh at one particularly misguided attempt at rhythm. That discord doesn't last, though. He knows and she knows, and soon he's back to not having to think at all, simply doing, simply feeling, simply touching, one hand finding its way back to a breast, eager mouth joining exploratory fingers as he takes her nipple between his lips, his teeth, moaning at the multitudinous sensations working their way through him.
Rich sensations. Soul-reaching and marrow-piercing sensations. Sensations that have him creating the soundtrack to this dance of theirs, keeping those little moans and rumbles and whines soft and low, like whispered secrets just for her hearing.
When he ends his admiration of her breast, he dances his fingers down, down, down, to that space where their bodies connect, that place where hers may throb with a similar intensity to his own. She may still be sensitive, though, this soon removed from her own ascension, and so his thumb strokes near enough to her clit to make his intentions known, but far enough away so as not to send the wrong kind of spark coursing through her, its touch gentle, its pressure featherlight.]
[ The idea has obvious appeal. It isn't even the first time she's thought about it today: dragging him off for more of this from time to time, losing themselves in each other for the thrill and enjoyment of it amid the important work they're doing. It's tempting...even though part of her even now knows that, at the end of the day, she'll still be an expeditioner living on a clock that is rapidly ticking down, and he'll still be immortal.
Sciel sets both the enticing possibility and unfortunate reality aside, focusing as much on the now as she can. It's easy enough to do, given how wholly distracting he is. How all-encompassing they are, together. Her gaze is trained on his face for the most part, taking in the micro-expressions, the way that he looks as she straddles him and urges their shared pleasure on. Any sounds he utters are followed by her own once he lifts himself again to take her nipple into his mouth and it's her turn to join in to the duet they're composing together: shaky exhales, heady moans, and everything in between.
His lips and teeth at her breast spur her on further, driving her to increase her speed a little, to move with more urgency. That's only intensified once he shifts, pulling back from her tit to direct his attentions down again between her legs. Those maddening fingers tease near her clit, which -- though not yet directly touched -- is, in fact, swollen again, aching for him. ]
Not too much. [ She breathes in response, and takes it a step further by taking his hand in her own and pressing it there, where he can feel the incessant beat. And yes, it is still sensitive, but Sciel is willing and able overcome any light discomfort in the face of the screaming need she has, still, to have his hands on her, for him to feel firsthand how intense her attraction is.
If that wasn't clear from the fact that she's also currently and enthusiastically fucking him. ]
I need you. [ Comes the low, pressing admission as she holds his hand there a few seconds longer. ] Feel it?
[The pulsing rhythm of Sciel's desire sets a tune that Verso could put to music; that thought curls his lips a little and drives the way he presses down and slowly rocks his fingers against her clit, watching her with rapt focus as he tests how tightly strung she is for himself before he gives her another demonstration of his fingerwork. An easy thing for him to absorb himself in, every bit as entranced by the thought of her coming twice in quick succession as he is by the inevitability of his own euphoric release.
An inevitability made all the more pressing by the intensity in how she looks at him, and the urgency of her movements, and the way her breath and her voice and even the warmth of her hand over his contrasts the heat of everything else work their way through him that his nerves are a constellation of pleasure, burning so fucking bright after such a long spate of darkness that even if he wants to hold onto them forever, he can already feel himself being taken to the verge of yet another burst of overwhelm, one capable of pushing him over an edge he's both ready and not ready to plummet over.]
You have me.
[Is what spills out once he's happy with this new rhythm and how it harmonises with the one being ever-built up by the collisions of their bodies. A growl of a promise as he lifts himself into another kiss, broken up as it is by breath and sound, and clenches her ponytail in his hand, enough to keep him grounded, careful not to cause any real pain. There's perhaps a double meaning to those words, but in this moment she has him most in body right now, the urges of his cock dominating most else.]
[ There's definitely something to be said (though instead of saying it, she files it away as part of the Verso-shaped profile she's building in her mind) about a partner who not only sees to the other person's pleasure first, but who drives it more than once in a single bout. Sciel's no therapist, but, as Verso himself has remarked, she sees a lot. And though the man in question has wrapped himself up in masks so completely in all his years that nobody can unravel them, she does ascribe the following to him: probably lonely, likely eager to please. Very good at pleasing.
Sciel eventually moves her hand off his to avoid impeding his work, instead dropping it to his side and curling into the skin of his thigh. Even though she'd just come moments before, the surging pleasure of the actual sex, along with the renewed stimulation at her clit, has her barreling toward another. Her response is mingled huffs of breath and whimpers, skin practically blazing with the ongoing heat and desire, all spurred on by the taste, touch, scent, sight, sound of everything together. The musician that he is crafts a beautiful symphony for their entwined bodies, and Sciel moves hers in time, effortlessly finding the beat he strums.
"You have me," he says, and she doesn't read into it beyond the implication that he's reaching his limit, too. "Come for me," he says, and she laughs because she'd been about to tell him the same.
The expeditioner meets his lips with relish, smiling against them as she takes, takes, takes. ]
Et tu. [ Sciel breathes against his ear, echoing his earlier words back to him, though this time it isn't a question. She feels herself cresting in that sweet, buzzing zenith and nips at his earlobe before drawing herself up again, both leaving room for him to maneuver at her clit and rocking against him with deep, intentional plunges.
It isn't much longer when -- surely joined by his own blissful utterances -- she comes again, riding him through both of their petite mort. ]
[It turns out that Verso has more nerves for Sciel to set alight; that breath of words against his ear summons forth another needy rumble, pitch slightly higher than usual, as his shoulders slump and he takes her lower lip between his teeth for a second as he grounds himself in the simplicities of these pleasures, easily brought about and not soon forgotten.
Fuck, he's going to be haunted by this moment for a while, perfect little ghosts of pleasure creeping up on him when the emptiness and the loneliness overwhelm.
Verso moves his free hand behind him, leans back on it for leverage as he rides the rest of this journey through with Sciel, thrust for thrust, moan for moan, desperate little noise for desperate little noise, all made cacophonous by the slapping of their bodies in preemptive applause. He breaks before her, incoherent sounds making way for a repetition of her name, all he can muster by way of warning as he crescendos inside of her, weaving curses in among her name as he feels her joining him.
His hand gentles into stillness before trailing its way up her back so he can hold her with him as he falls back boneless against the table, breathing in the scent of her, the heat of her, breathing in the near silence that follows, wind rustling outside the window, flames crackling in the oven. After he catches some of his breath, he works a hand into what's loose of her hair, lightly stroking it with no regard for how much messier it may become in consequence.
Eventually:]
I can see why you look to those card for guidance.
[Softly kidding. He hopes his reactions to her reading were honest enough earlier that his slightly flippancy now doesn't come across as anything other than merde, that was amazing.]
[ They ride it out together in a rush of feeling, a blur of their joined bodies. Sciel is borne out by the wash of her own orgasm even as she feels him come, too, spilling inside her as he shares in the surge. They utter each other's names as both devotional and curse, clutching desperately to each other as the crest curls, crashes, and gradually flattens.
When he reaches for her and draws her down with him, she obliges. The second orgasm has her nearly shivering with the intensity that is the bundle of nerves between her legs, each accidental brush of contact a firecracker of overstimulation. Still, she manages to lie against him in what is mostly euphoric comfort, gently slipping his cock from her, leaving them both wet with their shared pleasure.
The moment of silence that follows feels like it could stretch on forever. Sciel, usually energized after sex, thinks that she could easily drift off like this, in the cozy warmth of the train car, listening to his heart on the other side of his ribs. She leans into the brush of his hand at her crown, unconcerned with anything but soaking up the lingering gratification of the afterglow.
When he does speak up she chuckles in response, smiling against his skin. ]
Believe it or not, this isn't usually part of a traditional reading. [ "Confidence now, right?" The whole scenario had ended up as the perfect vessel by which she'd successfully gauged his interest in a physical relationship, and so she has no qualms about-...well, anything at the moment.
She cranes her neck a little so she can look up at him, nails tracing delicate, idle circles across his chest. ]
I'm fairly confident this is against normal train regulations, though. [ There's another little laugh at her own joke as her eyes drift off to whatever bit of their surroundings she can see from where she lies. ] Good thing I've got an in with the man in charge.
[ Strictly speaking, he was the one who was 'in,' but. ]
[Sciel touches Verso's chest, but he feels it the most up and down his arms, a chill, a fluttering of nerves still so easy to set alight that he lets out a huff of breath, amused, content, almost disbelieving that his heart still remembers how to beat to these tunes, and his nerves can still spark with celebration, and he still has venues for expressing certain kinds of honesty without him feeling exposed, even as he literally lies naked beneath her, soft and sweaty and spent of more than just adrenaline, more than just desire.
Tension, for one. That ever-present tarnish or loneliness, for another, though that will no doubt work its way back to him once the shadows of reality work their way back to obfuscate the light. Same with how ordinary he feels, something that he struggles all the more to call to mind with each passing year.
He shifts a bit so that she can look at him more comfortably, and laughs softly at her joke.]
You have an in with the pianist, too. [Spoken with a tone that makes it clear he knows what he's saying. Somehow, he's not tired of that particular pun yet.] If you can fit time for a show into your schedule.
[Verso, your dick has barely started to flag. For once, though, his mind is treating him kindly, and he is – perhaps with some blind enthusiasm, some subconscious dismissal of all the reasons why he should be bolstering distance between himself and the expeditioners rather than clearing it away entirely – looking forward to spending much more time with Sciel, even knowing that their time is in desperately short supply. He can't help himself. She is bright and strong, alive in ways he hasn't witnessed for as long as he can remember, and he is, as ever and as always, a weak, weak man.
But he's not a singularly minded man.]
There's still a lot I want to show you. Which is also against normal regulations, so it looks like we've got ourselves a bit of a theme going.
[ Sciel hums in reply. It's an amused, pleased sound as she quirks a brow at him from her vantage point, green eyes advertising mingled intrigue and playfulness. ]
Now that I've heard some of your music, I'm really looking forward to that original song. [ Her fingertips explore higher, finding the expanse of stubble that stretches from his lower neck, slipping down and over one shoulder. ] ...I do mean that, you know. Not just in this way.
[ Yes, she's obviously interested in stealing away for more of this in the future, when the opportunity arises. But...her interest in the other parts of him hasn't waned either. Part of what had sealed the deal beyond the initial physical spark, after all, had been the way that she'd seen him light up when the opportunity arose to talk about his other passions.
Speaking of. Clearly endeared: her lips tug further upward in a grin as he goes on about the train. ]
Really? Hard to believe there could be more. [ There's another little laugh as she finally moves off him, rolling to the side to lie on her back against the table, knees bent over the side, legs dangling. It's much less warm and cozy this way, but...they've got to move eventually, so... ] If you mean today, then we should probably mind the time. Don't want the others to think we've [ she's ] off and died.
[ Or to find them in a compromising position, though she assumes that Lune, at least, will just Know no matter what happens.
The other part of it, of course, is whether or not they'll ever come back here again. If he's actually got something to show her that isn't innuendo, this may be their one and only opportunity. ]
Should I put my boots back on? [ Sciel asks, voice eternally light. ]
You'd better mean it. [Said softly with an air of a laugh.] I've been putting a lot of work into that song, you know.
[Insofar as he can, anyway, when he's spending so much of his time surrounded by people but prefers to compose in isolation of as much of the world as he can manage. He may well end up hearing it start-to-finish for the first time when he plays it for Sciel, another prospect that gets his adrenaline going and terrifies him as much as it does excite him. That's just the kind of effect she has on him, he thinks, glad for it in ways that he knows better than to put to words.
He also knows better than to push things, so:]
Nah, not today. I'm incredibly old, remember? It takes a lot of beauty sleep to keep me looking like this. Though... there is something if you're up for a little more fun.
[With Sciel having rolled off of him, Verso unintentionally emphasises his age by groaning a bit as he lifts himself into seating position, then off the table, shamelessly stretching before looking around the car. They'll need to find some way to wipe themselves clean before heading back, and he looks around the car before grudgingly accepting that there's only one real option.]
Give me a sec. Oh, and keep those boots off for now.
[After he grabs some broken thing he can use as a basin, he heads back outside, sweat-slick and sex-slick and still completely naked but relatively sure that it's dark enough out and he's far enough away that even if the others were looking straight at him, they wouldn't be able to spot him. A few moments later and he's back, victorious, with some snow. The makeshift basin gets placed beside the oven to warm the water, and Verso heads back over to Sciel, masterfully pretending like he isn't cold as fuck as he offers her one hand all gentleman-like, if she's still on the table, and summons forth a couple washcloths into his other hand either way.]
Anyway, as I was saying, I have special authority to offer you a three-for-the-price-of-one ride deal. We could walk back down those tracks and try not to fall off of them, or... we could ride down and try not to fall off of the cart.
I always mean it. [ Sciel replies simply. Let it not be said she's ever anything less than completely earnest. And it's an incredibly easy thing to mean, here: if seeing him show off the train is any indication, the idea of him performing original music for her is-...
Maybe...a little dangerously romantic. But she isn't worried. After all, she'd have interest and enthusiasm for his music no matter their dynamic, and Sciel is confident that, should 'their dynamic' venture into ill-advised territory, she can have a frank conversation with him about it.
They're both adults, after all. Both have seen their fair share of death. He'll understand, she knows. ]
Ah, of course, grand-père. Wouldn't dream of denying you that. [ There's a little chuckle as she watches him rise and stretch, brows raised at the surprising 'a little more fun' that follows. Fortunately, it isn't long before her curiosity is sated, when he returns with the water, the washcloths, and the (probably a terrible) idea.
Sciel grins. ]
I like the sound of that. [ Of course, she'd say that about most challenges. Sciel, who'd only shifted enough that she's sitting with her legs hanging over the side of the table when he returns, takes his hand and gets to her feet, accepting the washcloth after. ] Have you done this before?
[ That won't change her answer, nor dim the obvious glint of reckless excitement in her eyes, but she wonders all the same.
In the meantime the expeditioner takes her own time to stretch, lifting her arms above her head and rising to her toes, rolling her neck, drawing a deep breath. There's a lot of evidence of him on her body: the messy rake of her hair, the pink blooms from her lips down her neck and further, the slick of her inner thighs. There is no self-consciousness as she stands and waits for the water to warm, glancing from the basin to Verso with a lopsided smile. ]
[That's part of what he appreciates about Sciel, her honesty and her ability to unapologetically be herself. He jokes and she clarifies, an easy back-and-forth that works its way just as well into his heart as laughter would have, he thinks, every bit the fool who should know better. Such is one of the many curses of Verso not-Dessendre, though, so he doesn't think twice about it – at least not now – as he spins the basin around to start evening out the heat.
Besides, the way she immediately buys into his dumb idea is distracting. Not many people are willing to humour the most frivolous of his exploits, so he appreciates the challenge, the sense of adventure, the confidence she meets him with in response.
Well, conditionally, anyway. He laughs in response to her distinction, cupping the middle side of the basin to test its warmth. Maybe a minute longer, so he steps towards her again, head cocked at a mischievous angle.]
It took a few [dozen] attempts, but yeah, it's fair to say I'm now the world's preeminent train track carter.
[On the technicality of being the world's only train track carter, but details are for people who aren't quite so inclined towards bravado and drama. Though he shifts into the opposite as he steals one final moment from the brutal reality awaiting them outside of the train to run the tip of a finger along one of the lines of Sciel's tattoo.]
By the way, I've been meaning to ask. Is there a story behind this?
[It's beautiful, he thinks, but he doesn't put that to words quite yet. Goodness knows he's stuck his feet squarely in his mouth enough times around her already. Surely he can resist the urge just this once.]
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tableauvivant) wrote2025-09-17 01:14 pm
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You have, huh?
[Whether his fingers and his tongue have been on her mind for a short while or a longer one, it's a nice thought, the idea that maybe while he was off scouting and she was curled up by the fire – or vice-versa – they were connected by having these shared flames to stoke inside themselves, each giving off little sparks for the other to collect. And being seen as someone other than the whats and whys and lies of his existence is always a good feeling, even if it is one that he often questions whether he deserves.
No questions plague his mind now – or at least none about himself and whether he belongs here with Sciel. Even to him, it's clear that he does, and so he rumbles again at the notion of having to part so he can address his state of dress, hardly wanting to move. The cause is good though – very good – and as he pulls away yet again and starts working himself free of his clothes, the quirk to his smile makes it clear how invested he is in this next step.]
What else have you been thinking about?
[The shirt comes off first and relatively fast owing to its perpetually half-unbuttoned state. Once it's been tossed aside, making an unceremonious landing on the floor, he makes similarly quick work of his boots and his socks. A pause before he takes off his pants, though, thumbs lingering beneath the waistband of both them and his underwear.]
Because, you see, I've been thinking about giving you whatever you want.
[As for what he wants, in this moment it's simple: for this to be the last time he has to pull away from her to handle something else. So, when he does start taking off his pants, the underwear goes with them, and he stands there naked for a moment, unbothered by it as he kicks everything he's shed aside, before he leans back over her again, one hand making its way towards the topmost fastening of her own pants.]
Now who's overdressed? May I...?
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About having those fingers and tongue in me. And... [ Comes the reply, feather-light, as she again trails her eyes down the length of his body, lingering meaningfully lower before lifting again. As he withdraws at her request, she trails her fingers along his retreating arm, though her eyes are still on him with rapt attention.
Off goes the shirt, the shoes. It's a nice view on its own, just admiring the slopes and muscles of his torso, smiling in her sideways sort of way as she commits the details to memory. Visual memory, at least, since she intends to map him out with thorough physicality once he rejoins her in the booth. ]
"Whatever I want?" [ Sciel repeats, and there's a hungry sort of warning to the question. ] Well, well. We're off to a very good start, I can tell you that.
[ What does she want? Most immediately: once he slips out of his pants, she takes an unapologetic look across the whole of him, chin lifting slightly in appraisal. The sight of his cock drives another rush of need through her, pooling between her legs, and she drags her teeth across her lower lip as her clit pulses insistently.
Verso is quick to close the distance again, thank god. And though her first instinct is to press her kiss-worn lips to his again, to take him in hand and make him feel the dizzying lust that's building in her, he...has a good reason for the delay, so she permits it with only a short sigh. ]
I think you'd better. [ Sciel replies, moving to take one of his hands in hers and guiding it to press against her sex, where the effects of the night's events so far radiate clearly even through her trousers. ] I'm overheating a bit, myself.
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Right now, though, thoughts of being explored fall by the wayside, Sciel's answers to his questions proving far more compelling. They bring a throb to his cock, another rumble to his throat that lingers.]
Just what I wanted to hear.
[Soon, soon, soon, but still with no rush. Even as her reactions intensify, even as his own body begins to rebel against the notion of there being anything left to build up towards. And even as she brings his hand to her heat and the moan he makes gives him entirely away, he chooses soft escalation, running his fingers up and down the seam of her pants, taking in the warmth, the wetness, the way she responds to this, too, before he presses a kiss to her apex and begins relieving her of the rest of her clothing.
He's neater with it than he was with his own, tossing it over to land on his abandoned seat on the other side of the booth. After taking his own moment to rake his eyes over the whole of Sciel, the fantasy of her once again paling in comparison to reality, he manoeuvres himself back over to her, hovering almost nose-to-nose as his hand slowly snakes its way down her toned stomach to dip between her legs. First with gentleness, touch featherlight, rhythm slow and teasing, fingers taking their time in moving to slip between her lips. And when they finally do, he brings pressure to the motion, middle finger just teasing at her entrance before he starts stroking in earnest, nothing targeted for now, just getting a feel for her heat and her wetness and how she does or doesn't move with him.
Once the motion becomes more familiar, more natural, a little less demanding of his focus, he grazes his mouth over hers in a promise of another kiss, should she meet him the rest of the way.]
Not sure that helped with the overheating. But you feel good like this, so I'm not sorry.
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It's been too long, and though she's perfectly capable of taking care of herself when the need arises, this is...better. Much better.
Sciel helps him free her from her bottoms as best she can, settling back in on the bench and beneath his gaze when it's done. Verso is quick to close the distance again, hovering tantalizingly close but not yet moving in for another kiss. Her tongue flits out to wet her own lips in unconscious anticipation, though most of what she's doing is feeling the heat already radiating off their bodies as their skin, newly-bared, offers alluring new possibilities. ...Which he blessedly takes immediate advantage of, one hand drifting beyond her navel to start stroking along her cunt, which has her tip her head back again in another surge of electric bliss, her hips lifting slightly in response. ]
Merde. [ He's barely fingering her -- not yet pressing inside or working her clit -- but it as a more dizzying effect even at this stage than she'd been expecting. Anticipation, maybe? Whatever the case, Sciel is grateful when, once she tilts her head back toward him, he's so easily ensnared in another kiss, which gives her something to channel her buzzing energy into. And the kiss reflects her happily-agitated state: her tongue pressing for entrance, dragging her teeth across his lip, making little, starved sounds in the back of her throat. ]
I'm not sorry, either. [ She breathes, when there's a moment to do so. The non-apology is explained with the floating of her own hand down his torso until she can wrap it around his cock. Her mouth returns to his as she simultaneously drags her nails in the lightest of touches up his length, thumbing in circles at the head once she reaches it. ]
Ça te plaît? [ Comes the question, innocently-posed, with the least-innocent of intentions. ]
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At least until Sciel starts making those sounds. Then, he releases a rumble of his own moan and presses a finger against her entrance, slipping it just a bit inside of her on his next stroke down, establishing a new pattern when every time his fingers brush its edges they push in a bit deeper, a bit deeper, until there's room enough for him to curl them as he pumps, keeping them inside now, singularly focused on seeking that sweet spot inside of her.
Not singularly focused for long, though; painted memory of a long-dead man though he may be, he is still very, very human, still only human, and when he feels her fingers make their own downward trek, he hisses in a breath and curses before she even takes him in her hand. It's been too long for him, too, far too fucking long, and he's stricken by a moment of self-consciousness: what if he doesn't last long?
Verso's a stubborn man, though, and one with no short supply of command over himself. This, he repeats as a mantra until her touch escalates and she swallows the deep moan he releases in affirmation, the staccato almost-whimper that follows rising in celebration of that drag of her nails.]
Fuck. [No cheeky comeback this time, no verbal escalation of his own. His own hand stills for a moment, his body too enraptured by the feeling of being touched to remember how to move.] Ca me plait.
[Once his own desires overcome those centralised in his cock and he returns to most of his senses, he shifts his wrist to press his thumb beside her clit. Another finger moves to join the one inside of her, and he slows down just a bit as helps her acclimate to its presence.]
Et tu?
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So she continues to kiss him back even as her lips sting, unused to the frequency, the harshness. She drinks up every sound that he makes against her, eagerly swallowing them down and returning with heady utterances of her own. Her free hand rises to first gingerly trace the line of his orbital bone, thumbing along where the scar over his eye sits, before moving more energetically up and into his hair again, finding purchase as if holding on for dear life, or...for sanity, at least.
There's another sharp intake of breath as he begins to press inside, finger steadily burying itself deeper within. Her heart is racing so wildly that she's sure he can hear it, or maybe feel the way her walls pulse around him as he explores farther and farther. Sciel lifts her hips into the song he plays inside her, breaking their kiss again to moan into the open air. ]
Verso... [ The hand that had been entwined with his hair moves instead to his upper back, just beyond his shoulder, and she curls her fingers into the skin with a little bite to further emphasize the way he's steadily unraveling her.
She gets some clarity when his hand slows, allowing her to focus more fully on driving him mad with more precision. So she begins an experimental pattern of her own, languidly pumping him, delicately closing fully over his head between her middle and ring fingers, swiping the eventual bead of precum over him with her thumb. All the while she listens and feels for his reactions, letting them guide the actions that follow.
Until, that is, he fingers her clit directly, clinching it with the pressure of a second finger inside her. Sciel gasps at the immediate lightning that courses through her, causing the tips of her toes to buzz and her head to spin. She's careful not to react in any way that would cause him physical discomfort, of course -- there's presence of mind enough for that, if nothing else -- but her hand does still for a moment around his cock as she lies awash in an exquisite numbness. ]
C'est parfait. [ It's barely a whisper at his ear, but the emphatic honesty of it is unmissable. ] You feel amazing.
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To sound, too, as she matches his intensifications with her own and all he can do is let out a helpless, almost whimper of a moan. There's betrayal to how his hips buck into her touch, his body in eager pursuit of an end that neither his heart nor his mind are willing to see happen so soon. No matter how good it feels.
And it does feel good, so fucking good, to have her in his hand and to be every bit as much in hers, sharing all these expressions of mutuality, whether large or small. Regardless of what any of this will come to mean once they've been brought back down to the chill of winter and the brutality of their mission, at least, he thinks, he'll carry with him the memory of that feeling.
Even so, Sciel had said she wanted to feel so much more than a finger or two inside of her, so when her hand stills on his cock, he takes that as his opportunity to withdraw himself from her touch – though not without a growl of reluctance – to position himself properly between her legs and give her kiss-raw lips a break.
His own lips have only begun their work.]
So do you. [Slowly, he withdraws his fingers from inside of her and sucks them clean.] And, mm, you taste... irrésistible.
[Were his head less clouded with lust and his body less encouraging, he might have added some other dumb comment about going down for seconds or whatever, but no, no, his mouth has better things with which to occupy itself. One hand lands at the innermost part of her thigh; the other, right above her clit. And he fixes her with one last, long look before he wets his lips and drives his tongue inside of her, rumbling out another groan at the collision of heat and taste and wetness on his tongue as he continues working her like his body has forgotten the need to breathe and is sustaining itself instead on whatever reactions he can draw forth from her.
Neither is all that far from the truth.]
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Her own reactions, of course, are similarly genuine. Sciel is not a person who feels much shame, and this is no exception. In fact, she's inclined to provide this sort of affirmation with a partner, anyway: particularly a new one, to ensure they know the effect they're having and to spur them on even further. It's clear, then, from her hitched breaths and shaky moans that he's driving her steadily to the edge as he fingers her, her clit throbbing beneath his fingertips --
And then it stops, and she immediately meets his gaze with an almost wild look, body screaming in protest as she's left, however briefly, with a driving need and a stalled build of orgasm. But...he only shifts downward and she catches on immediately, offering him a shaky smile as her chest rises and falls with the racing demands of her heartbeat.
Those fingers again. There's another sharp hiss of air through her teeth as the sihgt of watching him suck the taste of her from them drives another rush of blood. Before she can comment, or protest, or help quickly guide his head between her legs, he's already repositioning, and then his tongue presses inside her.
The sensation is like a shockwave: the most intense yet. Sciel instinctively curls her toes, hips twitching, as the feeling returns in force. It's overwhelmingly arousing to watch him bob there, pushing within over and over again, and her body opens for him like a flower. Sciel herself watches, enraptured, as she etches these moments and the feelings into her bones before letting it all sweep her away.
It's the beard that does it. The rough tickle of his facial hair provides just enough abrasion to set the whole of her alight, dancing over the parts of her that his attentive tongue doesn't hit directly. With everything combined, it isn't a terribly long time before she utters a long, low moan that's laced with a new flavour of desperation. ]
T'arrête pas. [ She manages to say, bright eyes shining with a warning. A promise. ] I'm almost-...
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And it's fortunate that Sciel isn't making herself into a mystery in this moment, either. Free and shameless in a way that his cock responds to with a persistent throbbing, an ache he gladly endures because right now, he can't conceive of a greater pleasure in this moment than hearing and feeling and seeing her rise closer and closer and closer to the precipice, can't imagine a better feeling than the chill that her warning sends through him.
Even so, a hum of affirmation is all she'll get in response; he maintains his rhythm, his pace, the depths of his thrusts and the pressure of his thumb. It's only when he feels her reach her climax that he changes things up, slowing down, gentling, guiding her through those final moments until there's nothing left for him to draw forth, and so he withdraws entirely.
Not wanting to go back to crowding her on the seat, he lifts himself up and sits on the table instead, though not without leaning down a little to free a few strands of her hair from the sweat on her brow.]
I like the way you dance. And that look you get in your eyes... just wow.
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It makes the grand finale all the more deeply enjoyable. So when she finally is driven over the peak, Sciel is truly awash in a rare bliss, body shuddering through the orgasm, guided until the end by the calculated conducting of his mouth and thumb. When he eventually withdraws, she does finally tilt her head back against the glass of the window with a euphoric exhale, adopting a slow, easy smile as she revels in the afterglow.
She turns into the brush of his fingers at her hairline, chin lifting slightly. ]
I like the way you play. [ The 'look' that he mentions...isn't gone, either. Because although she's very much still sitting in the sweet comedown, her clit still pulsing with sensitivity...well, apparently, she's got a bit of an appetite. That keen gaze gives him another once-over where he sits, and she shifts a little to position herself beneath him, between his legs, running her hands up the outside of both calves. ] ...I think I'd like to see the look in your eyes, this time.
[ No: she's not yet finished, and by the looks of things, he isn't, either. So Sciel rolls her head to the side as she assesses him, lips pressed together in devil-may-care invitation. ]
I can stay down here, [ She offers slowly, eyes lingering on his cock long enough to make the implication. ] or join you up there. Your choice!
[ Honestly, she'll be perfectly happy either returning the favour or moving up to properly seal the deal, as it were. It's more a matter of his preferences, and...well, staying power. ]
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So, just that gentle grazing of his calves is enough to make him shiver and bring rise to another burst of goosebumps. A heavy breath follows, uneven as what remains of his restraint dissipates into the heated air, and he grateful that he had the frame of mind before to stroke at her hair because now it gives him a distraction as he tries to cobble together what he can of his thoughts to respond to the flirt she'd batted back his way with an effortlessness that also proves a bit overwhelming the more the tables turn.]
Oh yeah?
[Another distraction, another slight delay. There is significant appeal to the thought of her taking him in her mouth and discovering the kind of music she can play with her own fingers and tongue, but staying power is indeed a consideration he needs to make. It's been a long, long time and he wants to make the most of it, wants to make sure that Sciel can get as much as she can out of it, too. And in his mind, that means one thing:]
Get up here. [Don't say it, Verso.] It's the best seat on the train.
[Verso. At least he laughs afterward.]
Sorry, I couldn't resist.
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Terrible. [ She chides, and her previously-mischevious expression twinges into that dangerously fond territory. ...That's a problem for another time, though, and so she merely ducks her gaze briefly, lips coming together, apples of her cheeks lifting.
...Briefly. And then she returns to the task at hand, expression mellowing to something altogether more amorous again before she starts to move.
This is surely not what the little booth and its table are meant for, but since they're the only two making use of the train (as far as she knows), who's left to judge them? So the lithe expeditioner gradually crawls atop the table, moving with steady grace as she places her arms up on the surface, lifts her torso and legs, positioning everything just so. At the end of it all, she's straddling him with her bare thighs on either side of his, face again mere inches from his, breath coming in slow, deep pushes and pulls.
Her body is still technically bouncing back from the beautiful storm he'd wrought, but that doesn't appear to be a deterrent. ]
You were right, [ She says, hips still lifted above his own, though her hand moves gradually down to guide his cock toward her entrance as she speaks. ] the view from here is amazing.
[ And then, carefully, she lowers herself onto him. It's made easier by the foreplay, which allows her to take him in with immediate ease. Even so, she's slow throughout, still very intentional with each step, each new sensation, still very much committing the feeling to memory. So she first presses him within just a little, breath hitching as a fresh wave of desire floods her as if she hadn't been so recently satisfied.
What's the hurry? Every inch of him that further fills that wet heat is another burst of rapture, another rush of blood to the head. ]
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It's dramatic. He knows this, so he keeps it at bay, letting it reveal itself in nothing more than his breathing and in the slight jiggling of one of his legs. Which is miraculously doable; his hands find her waist as she lifts herself closer, closer, closer, and he shifts himself back a little more on the table to give her room to do... whatever she wants, whatever she needs.
And if what she wants and needs when she first settles onto his lap, wasting no time in reaching for his cock, is to pull a reaction from him, well, she'll get that too.]
Oh, fuck.
[Maybe not the most dignified response – least of all for the needy noise that follows its speaking – but he's still just a man. In the moment, all else fades besides the way she envelopes him, warm and wet in a just-so sheathing of his just-so throbbing cock. His fingers press just a bit harder into her waist until he catches himself and begins to run his hands along her sides instead, trying – and failing – to match his breathing to the slowness of his own rhythm.]
Yeah. [He says about the view once he remembers he has more to say.] One of the best I've seen.
[Pointedly, and with great honesty, he looks her in the eye as he speaks, head canted at a slight angle. One of his hands runs all the way up body to cup her chin as he pulls himself up into another kiss, soft and short. Sweet in ways he hasn't been able to express in far longer since the last time he's slept with anyone.
Another dangerous prospect to ignore for now.]
Perfect. Merde, you feel good.
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Mm, glad you think so. [ Sciel murmurs, splaying her hands against his chest as she proceeds. ] I could get used to this...view.
[ There is definitive colour in her cheeks and sweat beading her hairline as she continues to rock against him, gradually, gradually progressing so she's flush with him.
She sits there a minute, settled and fully drinking up the sensation of the pressure of him within her. And when Verso lifts a little to meet her eyes, to steal another kiss, she leans down to oblige immediately. ]
You do, too. [ Then she's drawing herself up again, smoothing across his chest and shoulders, still working to feel and explore every inch of him. In the meantime, she resumes the motion of her hips, lifting so she can slide along the length of his cock. Some of it means a bit of experimenting with a rhythm that they don't always find together, in that honest awkwardness that happens as a matter of course for new lovers, but for the most part it comes naturally. Music and dance both rely so inherently on rhythm, after all, and...maybe it's their time spent together on and off of the battlefield, but the pair of them already have an underlying synchronicity that makes the sex all the more easy. ]
Fuck. [ Sciel hisses in turn, lips parting in a smile as another thrill of pleasure courses through her. ] Verso...
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[The agreement comes out of its own volition, vulnerable in the ease with which it encourages more moments spent slipping away from the others and into an embrace of each other's bodies, his heart vaulting ahead of his still-eager body, his still-captivated mind.
He leans back to take her in – the slope of her body and definition of her muscles, the twinkle of sweat on her skin, the way she moves with impressive ease – and to give her more room to manoeuvrer her hips and himself more leverage to rock into her in turn, though he stays still for now, letting her establish her own rhythm, relying on his body to commit it to memory whilst his thoughts are so thickly clouded by pleasure and desire and promise alike. And maybe he's still a little off once he starts to move; maybe he lets out a laugh at one particularly misguided attempt at rhythm. That discord doesn't last, though. He knows and she knows, and soon he's back to not having to think at all, simply doing, simply feeling, simply touching, one hand finding its way back to a breast, eager mouth joining exploratory fingers as he takes her nipple between his lips, his teeth, moaning at the multitudinous sensations working their way through him.
Rich sensations. Soul-reaching and marrow-piercing sensations. Sensations that have him creating the soundtrack to this dance of theirs, keeping those little moans and rumbles and whines soft and low, like whispered secrets just for her hearing.
When he ends his admiration of her breast, he dances his fingers down, down, down, to that space where their bodies connect, that place where hers may throb with a similar intensity to his own. She may still be sensitive, though, this soon removed from her own ascension, and so his thumb strokes near enough to her clit to make his intentions known, but far enough away so as not to send the wrong kind of spark coursing through her, its touch gentle, its pressure featherlight.]
Too much?
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Sciel sets both the enticing possibility and unfortunate reality aside, focusing as much on the now as she can. It's easy enough to do, given how wholly distracting he is. How all-encompassing they are, together. Her gaze is trained on his face for the most part, taking in the micro-expressions, the way that he looks as she straddles him and urges their shared pleasure on. Any sounds he utters are followed by her own once he lifts himself again to take her nipple into his mouth and it's her turn to join in to the duet they're composing together: shaky exhales, heady moans, and everything in between.
His lips and teeth at her breast spur her on further, driving her to increase her speed a little, to move with more urgency. That's only intensified once he shifts, pulling back from her tit to direct his attentions down again between her legs. Those maddening fingers tease near her clit, which -- though not yet directly touched -- is, in fact, swollen again, aching for him. ]
Not too much. [ She breathes in response, and takes it a step further by taking his hand in her own and pressing it there, where he can feel the incessant beat. And yes, it is still sensitive, but Sciel is willing and able overcome any light discomfort in the face of the screaming need she has, still, to have his hands on her, for him to feel firsthand how intense her attraction is.
If that wasn't clear from the fact that she's also currently and enthusiastically fucking him. ]
I need you. [ Comes the low, pressing admission as she holds his hand there a few seconds longer. ] Feel it?
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[The pulsing rhythm of Sciel's desire sets a tune that Verso could put to music; that thought curls his lips a little and drives the way he presses down and slowly rocks his fingers against her clit, watching her with rapt focus as he tests how tightly strung she is for himself before he gives her another demonstration of his fingerwork. An easy thing for him to absorb himself in, every bit as entranced by the thought of her coming twice in quick succession as he is by the inevitability of his own euphoric release.
An inevitability made all the more pressing by the intensity in how she looks at him, and the urgency of her movements, and the way her breath and her voice and even the warmth of her hand over his contrasts the heat of everything else work their way through him that his nerves are a constellation of pleasure, burning so fucking bright after such a long spate of darkness that even if he wants to hold onto them forever, he can already feel himself being taken to the verge of yet another burst of overwhelm, one capable of pushing him over an edge he's both ready and not ready to plummet over.]
You have me.
[Is what spills out once he's happy with this new rhythm and how it harmonises with the one being ever-built up by the collisions of their bodies. A growl of a promise as he lifts himself into another kiss, broken up as it is by breath and sound, and clenches her ponytail in his hand, enough to keep him grounded, careful not to cause any real pain. There's perhaps a double meaning to those words, but in this moment she has him most in body right now, the urges of his cock dominating most else.]
And I've got you. Come for me.
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Sciel eventually moves her hand off his to avoid impeding his work, instead dropping it to his side and curling into the skin of his thigh. Even though she'd just come moments before, the surging pleasure of the actual sex, along with the renewed stimulation at her clit, has her barreling toward another. Her response is mingled huffs of breath and whimpers, skin practically blazing with the ongoing heat and desire, all spurred on by the taste, touch, scent, sight, sound of everything together. The musician that he is crafts a beautiful symphony for their entwined bodies, and Sciel moves hers in time, effortlessly finding the beat he strums.
"You have me," he says, and she doesn't read into it beyond the implication that he's reaching his limit, too. "Come for me," he says, and she laughs because she'd been about to tell him the same.
The expeditioner meets his lips with relish, smiling against them as she takes, takes, takes. ]
Et tu. [ Sciel breathes against his ear, echoing his earlier words back to him, though this time it isn't a question. She feels herself cresting in that sweet, buzzing zenith and nips at his earlobe before drawing herself up again, both leaving room for him to maneuver at her clit and rocking against him with deep, intentional plunges.
It isn't much longer when -- surely joined by his own blissful utterances -- she comes again, riding him through both of their petite mort. ]
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Fuck, he's going to be haunted by this moment for a while, perfect little ghosts of pleasure creeping up on him when the emptiness and the loneliness overwhelm.
Verso moves his free hand behind him, leans back on it for leverage as he rides the rest of this journey through with Sciel, thrust for thrust, moan for moan, desperate little noise for desperate little noise, all made cacophonous by the slapping of their bodies in preemptive applause. He breaks before her, incoherent sounds making way for a repetition of her name, all he can muster by way of warning as he crescendos inside of her, weaving curses in among her name as he feels her joining him.
His hand gentles into stillness before trailing its way up her back so he can hold her with him as he falls back boneless against the table, breathing in the scent of her, the heat of her, breathing in the near silence that follows, wind rustling outside the window, flames crackling in the oven. After he catches some of his breath, he works a hand into what's loose of her hair, lightly stroking it with no regard for how much messier it may become in consequence.
Eventually:]
I can see why you look to those card for guidance.
[Softly kidding. He hopes his reactions to her reading were honest enough earlier that his slightly flippancy now doesn't come across as anything other than merde, that was amazing.]
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When he reaches for her and draws her down with him, she obliges. The second orgasm has her nearly shivering with the intensity that is the bundle of nerves between her legs, each accidental brush of contact a firecracker of overstimulation. Still, she manages to lie against him in what is mostly euphoric comfort, gently slipping his cock from her, leaving them both wet with their shared pleasure.
The moment of silence that follows feels like it could stretch on forever. Sciel, usually energized after sex, thinks that she could easily drift off like this, in the cozy warmth of the train car, listening to his heart on the other side of his ribs. She leans into the brush of his hand at her crown, unconcerned with anything but soaking up the lingering gratification of the afterglow.
When he does speak up she chuckles in response, smiling against his skin. ]
Believe it or not, this isn't usually part of a traditional reading. [ "Confidence now, right?" The whole scenario had ended up as the perfect vessel by which she'd successfully gauged his interest in a physical relationship, and so she has no qualms about-...well, anything at the moment.
She cranes her neck a little so she can look up at him, nails tracing delicate, idle circles across his chest. ]
I'm fairly confident this is against normal train regulations, though. [ There's another little laugh at her own joke as her eyes drift off to whatever bit of their surroundings she can see from where she lies. ] Good thing I've got an in with the man in charge.
[ Strictly speaking, he was the one who was 'in,' but. ]
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Tension, for one. That ever-present tarnish or loneliness, for another, though that will no doubt work its way back to him once the shadows of reality work their way back to obfuscate the light. Same with how ordinary he feels, something that he struggles all the more to call to mind with each passing year.
He shifts a bit so that she can look at him more comfortably, and laughs softly at her joke.]
You have an in with the pianist, too. [Spoken with a tone that makes it clear he knows what he's saying. Somehow, he's not tired of that particular pun yet.] If you can fit time for a show into your schedule.
[Verso, your dick has barely started to flag. For once, though, his mind is treating him kindly, and he is – perhaps with some blind enthusiasm, some subconscious dismissal of all the reasons why he should be bolstering distance between himself and the expeditioners rather than clearing it away entirely – looking forward to spending much more time with Sciel, even knowing that their time is in desperately short supply. He can't help himself. She is bright and strong, alive in ways he hasn't witnessed for as long as he can remember, and he is, as ever and as always, a weak, weak man.
But he's not a singularly minded man.]
There's still a lot I want to show you. Which is also against normal regulations, so it looks like we've got ourselves a bit of a theme going.
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Now that I've heard some of your music, I'm really looking forward to that original song. [ Her fingertips explore higher, finding the expanse of stubble that stretches from his lower neck, slipping down and over one shoulder. ] ...I do mean that, you know. Not just in this way.
[ Yes, she's obviously interested in stealing away for more of this in the future, when the opportunity arises. But...her interest in the other parts of him hasn't waned either. Part of what had sealed the deal beyond the initial physical spark, after all, had been the way that she'd seen him light up when the opportunity arose to talk about his other passions.
Speaking of. Clearly endeared: her lips tug further upward in a grin as he goes on about the train. ]
Really? Hard to believe there could be more. [ There's another little laugh as she finally moves off him, rolling to the side to lie on her back against the table, knees bent over the side, legs dangling. It's much less warm and cozy this way, but...they've got to move eventually, so... ] If you mean today, then we should probably mind the time. Don't want the others to think we've [ she's ] off and died.
[ Or to find them in a compromising position, though she assumes that Lune, at least, will just Know no matter what happens.
The other part of it, of course, is whether or not they'll ever come back here again. If he's actually got something to show her that isn't innuendo, this may be their one and only opportunity. ]
Should I put my boots back on? [ Sciel asks, voice eternally light. ]
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[Insofar as he can, anyway, when he's spending so much of his time surrounded by people but prefers to compose in isolation of as much of the world as he can manage. He may well end up hearing it start-to-finish for the first time when he plays it for Sciel, another prospect that gets his adrenaline going and terrifies him as much as it does excite him. That's just the kind of effect she has on him, he thinks, glad for it in ways that he knows better than to put to words.
He also knows better than to push things, so:]
Nah, not today. I'm incredibly old, remember? It takes a lot of beauty sleep to keep me looking like this. Though... there is something if you're up for a little more fun.
[With Sciel having rolled off of him, Verso unintentionally emphasises his age by groaning a bit as he lifts himself into seating position, then off the table, shamelessly stretching before looking around the car. They'll need to find some way to wipe themselves clean before heading back, and he looks around the car before grudgingly accepting that there's only one real option.]
Give me a sec. Oh, and keep those boots off for now.
[After he grabs some broken thing he can use as a basin, he heads back outside, sweat-slick and sex-slick and still completely naked but relatively sure that it's dark enough out and he's far enough away that even if the others were looking straight at him, they wouldn't be able to spot him. A few moments later and he's back, victorious, with some snow. The makeshift basin gets placed beside the oven to warm the water, and Verso heads back over to Sciel, masterfully pretending like he isn't cold as fuck as he offers her one hand all gentleman-like, if she's still on the table, and summons forth a couple washcloths into his other hand either way.]
Anyway, as I was saying, I have special authority to offer you a three-for-the-price-of-one ride deal. We could walk back down those tracks and try not to fall off of them, or... we could ride down and try not to fall off of the cart.
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Maybe...a little dangerously romantic. But she isn't worried. After all, she'd have interest and enthusiasm for his music no matter their dynamic, and Sciel is confident that, should 'their dynamic' venture into ill-advised territory, she can have a frank conversation with him about it.
They're both adults, after all. Both have seen their fair share of death. He'll understand, she knows. ]
Ah, of course, grand-père. Wouldn't dream of denying you that. [ There's a little chuckle as she watches him rise and stretch, brows raised at the surprising 'a little more fun' that follows. Fortunately, it isn't long before her curiosity is sated, when he returns with the water, the washcloths, and the (probably a terrible) idea.
Sciel grins. ]
I like the sound of that. [ Of course, she'd say that about most challenges. Sciel, who'd only shifted enough that she's sitting with her legs hanging over the side of the table when he returns, takes his hand and gets to her feet, accepting the washcloth after. ] Have you done this before?
[ That won't change her answer, nor dim the obvious glint of reckless excitement in her eyes, but she wonders all the same.
In the meantime the expeditioner takes her own time to stretch, lifting her arms above her head and rising to her toes, rolling her neck, drawing a deep breath. There's a lot of evidence of him on her body: the messy rake of her hair, the pink blooms from her lips down her neck and further, the slick of her inner thighs. There is no self-consciousness as she stands and waits for the water to warm, glancing from the basin to Verso with a lopsided smile. ]
Have you done this...successfully before?
[ Crucial distinction! ]
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Besides, the way she immediately buys into his dumb idea is distracting. Not many people are willing to humour the most frivolous of his exploits, so he appreciates the challenge, the sense of adventure, the confidence she meets him with in response.
Well, conditionally, anyway. He laughs in response to her distinction, cupping the middle side of the basin to test its warmth. Maybe a minute longer, so he steps towards her again, head cocked at a mischievous angle.]
It took a few [dozen] attempts, but yeah, it's fair to say I'm now the world's preeminent train track carter.
[On the technicality of being the world's only train track carter, but details are for people who aren't quite so inclined towards bravado and drama. Though he shifts into the opposite as he steals one final moment from the brutal reality awaiting them outside of the train to run the tip of a finger along one of the lines of Sciel's tattoo.]
By the way, I've been meaning to ask. Is there a story behind this?
[It's beautiful, he thinks, but he doesn't put that to words quite yet. Goodness knows he's stuck his feet squarely in his mouth enough times around her already. Surely he can resist the urge just this once.]
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