Her lips were surprisingly warm and as she opened her mouth to him he could taste the mead on her tongue. The kiss started out as a curious exploration, his lips softly touching hers, and as he got familiar with their shapes and curves, it was only the warmth and softness that still was more than he could comprehend. Then he became demanding, hungry; his hands chasing over the contours of her body like trackers in the wild following a deer through valleys and over hills; his lips and tongue harsher against hers. And she was so different. Her hips were wider, waist thinner and chest most certainly more glaring in comparison to what he was used to, as if the gods made woman as an exaggeration of the foundations of womanhood and this was their final and ultimate creation. It would be heresy to call her an incarnation of Dibella - for so many reasons - and he didn’t want the wrath of his Aedra, so he didn’t. And how her mouth answered; her lips possessive but still soft, her tongue a welcome intrusion. It was breathtaking and every part of him was aching for more - Ondolemar was losing control and it was as much a thrilling experience as it was terrifying. Yet, through it all he felt a bit disgusted with himself for responding like this. He didn’t want to give in to these urges, but maybe, just maybe, they would disappear if he appeased this twisted curiosity. Ondolemar lifted his head and looked down on her face, her lips swollen and parted, the glow in her eyes almost making her irises white. Maybe. “Once, you say?” Rhyssa whispered with an unsettling grin. “I think I’ll have that bottle of mead instead, Lavender.” Her words didn’t sink in until he noticed her hands leaving his shoulders, and it made him both frustrated and to be honest a bit relieved, while confusion must be the most prominent emotion of them all. “You prefer a bottle of mead”, he scoffed maybe a bit amused by her choice of words, since it hardly was the truth. “Before a superiorly bred Mer such as myself?” No, she wasn’t being honest, he could read it in her face. She was just as eager as him to proceed. “You are either joking or insane.” “Or a bit of both”, the woman answered and broke free from his embrace. “See you around, Lavender.” She turned her back against him and waved with her hand over her head as she walked down the stairs, the sway of her hips making him stare. “I’ll join you”, Ondolemar said with a loud voice, the words echoing through the room before being swallowed by the noise of the machinery. “No, please don’t. My insignificance might be contagious to such a superiorly bred Mer as yourself”, he heard her reply from the shadows below the stairs.
And that night Ondolemar returned to his chambers after all, with a bigger itch than ever.
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timeasmymeasure
Re: What happens in Markarth stays in Markarth 10
Date: 2015-08-06 12:01 pm (UTC)And she was so different. Her hips were wider, waist thinner and chest most certainly more glaring in comparison to what he was used to, as if the gods made woman as an exaggeration of the foundations of womanhood and this was their final and ultimate creation. It would be heresy to call her an incarnation of Dibella - for so many reasons - and he didn’t want the wrath of his Aedra, so he didn’t.
And how her mouth answered; her lips possessive but still soft, her tongue a welcome intrusion. It was breathtaking and every part of him was aching for more - Ondolemar was losing control and it was as much a thrilling experience as it was terrifying. Yet, through it all he felt a bit disgusted with himself for responding like this. He didn’t want to give in to these urges, but maybe, just maybe, they would disappear if he appeased this twisted curiosity. Ondolemar lifted his head and looked down on her face, her lips swollen and parted, the glow in her eyes almost making her irises white.
Maybe.
“Once, you say?” Rhyssa whispered with an unsettling grin. “I think I’ll have that bottle of mead instead, Lavender.”
Her words didn’t sink in until he noticed her hands leaving his shoulders, and it made him both frustrated and to be honest a bit relieved, while confusion must be the most prominent emotion of them all.
“You prefer a bottle of mead”, he scoffed maybe a bit amused by her choice of words, since it hardly was the truth. “Before a superiorly bred Mer such as myself?” No, she wasn’t being honest, he could read it in her face. She was just as eager as him to proceed. “You are either joking or insane.”
“Or a bit of both”, the woman answered and broke free from his embrace. “See you around, Lavender.” She turned her back against him and waved with her hand over her head as she walked down the stairs, the sway of her hips making him stare.
“I’ll join you”, Ondolemar said with a loud voice, the words echoing through the room before being swallowed by the noise of the machinery.
“No, please don’t. My insignificance might be contagious to such a superiorly bred Mer as yourself”, he heard her reply from the shadows below the stairs.
And that night Ondolemar returned to his chambers after all, with a bigger itch than ever.