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Szocha wakes to soft sunlight and the smell of salt-spray from the sea, and for the briefest of moments, thinks she is back in Mist, comfortable in her little blue house just a quarter-malm away from the beach. Slowly, she cracks her eyes open and sees the warm tan ceiling of their suite in the For’ard Cabins above her, rather than the deep crimson of her own bed’s canopy. Even more glaring than that, she finds, there is only one body in the bed beside her, not two.
Her usual flicker of sadness that Albeleo had not come with them overtakes her, but she swiftly forces that down and makes herself focus on why exactly it is so bright in here. She carefully and with no small amount of regret at doing so, extricates herself from Menenius's heavy arm that had been wrapped around her body to hold her closer to him. Slowly, she sits up and twists around and is greeted by the sight of a cheerful blue sky with fluffy pink clouds and bright green trees swaying gently in the breeze across the bay.
It's a lovely sight, to be sure, one that at any other hour would inspire her to put brush to palette, but at this hour irritation instead flashes through her at the fact that they had both forgotten to close it off before falling into bed after a quick dinner and even quicker wash, too exhausted from arriving in Tulliyolal and immediately being dragged around the city by Wuk Lamar to think about dessert or sex. Or even curtains, it would seem.
Szocha flops back down, fully intending to rollover, bury her face in Menenius’s armpit, and go back to sleep for as long as she can. That is, until she realizes that Menenius himself is not yet awake, and very quickly sits back up in shock. It isn't often at all that she finds herself awake before he is, and yet here she is, staring down at his sleeping form and not the other way around for once. She leans over him, one hand braced beside his head on the pillow, careful not to disturb him or capture his loose strands of her under her palms, as she looks at him, glutting herself on the sight of him in the morning light, on the face she’d wanted to see from first slip of his helmet during their duel, all hers and all right in front of her. She stretches out her free hand, crystal-scarred fingers passing gently across his thin lips and little beard before trailing down his charmingly long elezen’s neck, until she hits the jut of his clavicle.
Poor Menenius, Szocha thinks, because he looks somehow still exhausted in his sleep, brows furrowed by whatever is on his dreaming mind. She has woken to him touching her in much the same way before, gentle lips against the scales on her forehead and nose and thick fingers brushing her orange hair away from her groggy face, but her gaze slips downwards and her thoughts turn far less innocent.
Szocha isn't sure if she had stolen the blankets from him at some point in the night or if he had simply gotten too warm and offloaded them onto her, but either way he's barely covered, and haphazardly so. She strokes his clavicle, fingers dancing across the line, as her mouth goes dry and her gaze wanders south, across a sight she'll never get tired of seeing and that fills countless pages in her most secret sketchbook: his golden-tan skin and the rest-softened planes of his muscles, the way shiny silver hair dusts across his heavy pectorals and firm stomach, swirling around his rosy nipples and thickening as it trails downwards past his navel and towards the one spot sought most by her eyes and that just so happens to be one of the few still covered by a blanket.
Well, she thinks giddily, as her gaze falls upon the stiff line of his cock just barely covered by a corner of a blanket, his dreams can't be that bad, and lets her errant hand travel downwards. She strokes her fingers through the hair on his chest, letting her hand stay there to feel the rise and fall with every deep, steady breath, and can't resist the urge to lean in and press a quick kiss to his parted lips. She doesn't linger, too afraid to wake him prematurely when she's honestly so curious to see how far she can take her affections before he stirs, and trails her hand to scratch her fingers through the hair underneath his navel.
Szocha could spend all day simply kissing him and petting the hair on his chest and stomach, but it would be a shame to neglect the prize that is his cock during what limited uninterrupted time they have this morning. So she makes herself move her hand down more, grabbing the blanket and pulling it off of him until he's completely bare before her eyes and gently shuffles down the bed until she's comfortably between his thighs. Menenius stirs a little at his flesh being completely exposed to the early air, but luckily the mornings in Tulliyolal are balmy enough not to wake him completely.
She strokes her fingers gently along his muscled thighs, stirring the fine silvery hair there with her glittery-painted fingertips, unable to resist petting him again because she really does love the firmness of his muscles and the hair on his body, so unlike her own scales, before wrapping her hand around his cock. The other hand she keeps braced on his thigh as she leans in, letting spit drip from her mouth down onto his cock, slicking him for her to stroke more easily. She can't fit her fingers entirely around the girth of his cock, but neither of them really mind, not when he's awake and certainly not now.
He's already hard, hard enough to already be faintly leaking at the tip, but she likes the feel of him in her hand, the softness of his skin and the way the thickness of him makes her Light-scarred fingers hurt to spread around him. After a moment, she glances up at his face to make sure he's still asleep, and upon finding that he is, shifts her hand down from his shaft to cup one of his testes. Not that she'd be particularly bothered if he woke, of course, or that he'd be bothered by her doing this to him, but it's more thrilling to see how far she can take this while he's unaware. Szocha leans in, allowing herself one more indulgence in the form of licking up one of the veins on the underside of his cock before she kisses the head and takes him into her mouth. She holds him there, savoring the weight of his cock on her tongue and the taste of him for a long moment, salty with precome but otherwise still clean from their wash the prior evening.
Finally, she sinks lower, until she can feel him more than halfway down her throat and her nose brushes against the coarse hair at the base of his cock. She keeps him there as long as she can stand, longer than he would let her if he was awake, always so careful and aware of how big he is, letting the thick of his cock block her airway until little flickers of dark bloom at the periphery of her vision. Only when she starts to truly grow lightheaded does she give herself room to breathe, pulling back and off of him momentarily to catch her breath. Her eyes very nearly cross as she focuses in on the strand of saliva still connecting the head of his cock to her bottom lip, but she does not give it a chance to break before she's leaning back in and taking him in her mouth once more, though not quite so deep as she takes her time bobbing up and down the length of him.
Szocha does not quite notice the waking yawn that turns into a low moan, but the hand that drops to rest on the back of her head and stroke through her hair is impossible to miss. She startles slightly at the touch, but his hand stays gentle, not grasping, and so she pulls off of him once more to look up at him. She rests her cheek against his thigh, taking in the way his cheeks and ears are flushed with pleasure, and chirps, cheerily, past the tickle in her throat, “Good morning, ‘nenius!”
“Indeed, it is. Unless I’m still dreaming?” Menenius asks, voice hopeful and still low with sleep, cracking open his eye to look down at her. She smiles up at him and thinks of the sight she must make, lips swollen and with his still-stiff cock just ilms away from her and greater in length than her entire face. If the way his cheeks flush more and his cock jerks, drawing her gaze back to it, is any indication, it's a sight he likes very much. She nuzzles her cheek against his thigh, feeling the tickle of hair against her skin and scales, before looking away from his cock and back up at him to reply, “You're awake, I think. Do you dream of me often?”
“Mm, not so often now that I have you, but… there was a time where you haunted my every thought, both waking and not,” Menenius tells her, eye fluttering shut again. His fingers comb through her hair once more and then retreat, and Szocha takes the opportunity to scoot upwards and climb over him. She settles atop his stomach, just out of reach of the temptation of his cock, thighs spread wide and the slick of her cunt left to wet the hair under his navel. She ignores that for now, focusing instead on bracing her hands against his chest and peering down at him curiously as she asks, tail twitching across one of his thighs, curious and wanting, “After Thavnair?”
“After our duel,” Menenius corrects, eye opening once more, one of his hands rising and fingertips tracing over where the scar from his gunlance would be, had she not healed it.
Sometimes she regrets not leaving even the faintest mark, some little piece of him on her always, but her body is already such a mangled mess of crystallized wounds and normal skin and scales that she doubts it would be visible regardless. She reaches down, resting her hand over his much larger one, and squeezes gently. Whatever lingering guilt he still carries over how they started isn't shared by her, even if he had come closer to killing her than most could ever hope.
“I love you,” Szocha tells him, and leans in to kiss him. A small, pleased noise escapes his throat at the press of their lips and she risks her balance to cup his cheeks in her hands, his sideburns and fresh overnight stubble both prickly in the best way against her palms. He returns her kiss, and his own hands, big and warm and calloused, come up now, dancing up and down her sides as if he's unable to decide where he wants to touch her most. Finally, he settles on cupping the heavy weight of her breasts, thumbs slipping into the space between their bodies to swipe across her pierced nipples. She gasps into his mouth at the sensation, her distraction giving him the upper hand in tongue warfare until she reluctantly pulls away to catch her breath.
“I love you too,” Menenius tells her as they separate, voice so incredibly earnest it makes her want to weep, hands slipping down to rest hot and heavy on her hips as he holds her tight, thumbs stroking over the Light cracks and barely-visible white freckles on her stomach. He makes no move to lift her up and shift her onto his cock, even as she feels the length of him jerk against her tail. She blinks down at him, slightly surprised at his restraint but also not, knowing how he tends to let her take the lead even when she wouldn't mind otherwise. His gaze drops from her face, lingering on her breasts, before continuing downward to where her thighs are split around his waist, and then slowly drags back up. The casualness of his motions belies the desperation in his voice as he continues, “But darling…It's rather unfair of you to start this and not finish it.”
Szocha blinks down at him again, slower this time, considering dragging it out more, either by playing oblivious or by acting the brat and insisting he take control, but when she really thinks about it, she doesn't want to wait either. So instead she leans back in and gives him a flurry of quick kisses, on his thin lips and aquiline nose and little beard, and then pulls away and shuffles back down his body until she's hovering over his cock. She reaches one small hand down to hold his cock in place and sinks onto him slowly, savoring the stretch of her cunt from the sheer size of him, and takes him as deep as she’s physically able.
She has long lost count of how many times she's had him inside of her, but she doesn't think she'll ever grow tired of him, not even if she has him every day for the rest of her life. And even if she does, and hopefully she will, she doubts she'll ever fully get used to the way he fills her, the way her cunt spreads around the thick of him and how deep inside of her he reaches. Pleasure deep punches inside of her as her cunt adjusts to him, and only expands as she returns her hands to his chest, half stroking and half bracing, and begins to truly ride him. If they were at home, in her bed or on one of the sofas or in the bath, she would truly take her time with this, slowly bouncing up and down his cock until he was begging her for it, but she can see the sun rising higher in the sky from her vantage point atop him, clouds turned from pink to sheer white, and knows their time together like this has a limit to it until whenever the next time they're alone is.
As if he can sense her thoughts, one of Menenius’s hands shifts over across her hip and thigh, dipping down and in so he can thumb her clit. She gasps at the feeling and watches the corners of his mouth twitch upwards, a small and all too pleased with himself smile as her rhythm is momentarily thrown off before she redoubles her efforts atop him in time with the strokes of his thumb. Her eyes flutter shut as pleasure washes over her, good light blooming behind her eyelids, fingers scrabbling at his stomach and no doubt leaving little red marks behind that she'll heal later with gentle magic and gentler kisses. He holds her through her orgasm, thumb stroking lovingly and patiently over one of the golden cracks of Light on her side.
When Szocha opens her eyes once more, all she can see is him, still desperately wanting, flushed red down his chest and to the points of his ears. Menenius looks up at her, a silent question in his eye, the yellow almost overtaken by the hungry black of his pupil, and she nods, stilling and relaxing atop him as both of his hands settle on her hips once more, fingers grabbing desperately at her, fucking up into her in time with how he bounces her on his cock. Her thighs had been starting to ache, but even if that weren't the case, she loves the rare occasions when he takes advantage of their difference in size to take what he wants from her.
She could come again, just from this, pleasure stirring inside of her once more, but she's only a little disappointed when his overtakes him first. He chokes out her name as his cock jerks inside of her, painting the walls of her cunt with the warm flood of his seed. As his pleasure plateaus, he falls back against the bed, grip going slack on her hips as she slumps over him in turn, enjoying these last few moments of him inside of her before she knows she’ll need to slip off of him as he softens so they can go about their day. Adventuring waits for no one, after all, and especially not when they have a job to do.
Szocha pulls back, allowing herself a long moment of just looking down at him, savoring the sight of his post-coital bliss, the dampening of the hair on his chest and the way the furrow between his brows has smoothed out. With a sigh, she pulls herself all the way off of him, cunt spasming around nothing at the loss of him, and flops down beside him, thighs clenched to half-heartedly keep the mess of their combined fluids contained, and finally buries her face in his armpit as she had originally intended. He's sweatier now, the scent of exertion clinging to the darker silver hair here, but she likes it, likes him. She can feel his fingers stroking across the scales of her back and then the rumble in his chest as Menenius gives a small, fond huff of laughter and says, “That was certainly a lovely way to start the day.”