brave_kreyu | OOM All Skate Skellig Dream Magic Weirdness -Part Nine

It might be far more subtle than THAT dress, but in his mind, it is in a different classification altogether. From where he is settled on the end of the bed, he watches her as she twirls, studies the way the silk reacts with the air, billowing and flowing with her movements. It is so much lighter than the other dress, and while she is able to move freely in that one, this dress is completely different.

His heartrate kicks up a notch or two as he watches her move.

It takes a moment or two before he can find words to string together that make sense.

"It is as if you are coated in stardust," he says. "Descended straight from the night sky."

She twirls again, looks down at herself. "That's what I thought of when I saw it again, stardust."

She moves slightly toward him, barefoot and light on her feet. "What better thing to wear than stardust for my husband who enjoys the stars so."

She dances in such a way as to take advantage of the flowing nature of the garment. It's sleeves and skirt 'chase' her movement as she twirls, leaps, sways, moves her arms. The sensuality of this dance is a more subtle, teasing, thing than when she has danced for him before.

"I enjoy the stars so very much because I was looking at them the moment that everything...the moment that everything just suddenly made sense," he says earnestly, softly. "It was as if every infinite possibility came rushing into my senses at once, and yet my mind was not overwhelmed, because I knew with my whole being that I was exactly where I belonged. With you."

His words are quiet as he continues to watch her dance, and it is obvious from his glances that he is studying the way that the fabric interacts with each movement, each leap and sway. And he is fascinated...he has never seen anything like this.

(The distraction is what is keeping him seated patiently on the end of the bed, though his attentions will shift eventually.)

"You look very mysterious, with the way it moves with you," he adds. "It is hard to predict, anticipate. Sometimes it goes this way..." he motions with his hand in one direction. "And then sometimes it switches."

"You have a poet's gift for words, my heart," she says, smiling so bright. "I belong with you too, I know it in my bones, in my very soul."

She moves a little closer. "As mysterious as its makers, perhaps. They are like that too."

This dress was not designed with her wings in mind, so she doesn't have them 'out' at the moment, but there is something of the fluttering of wings in her sleeves as she dances, something of tail feathers in her skirt.

Closer, closer...silently he urges her to come closer to him, because he wants so badly to run his fingertips over the silk, feel the fabric, feel her body beneath his touch. He does not have to beckon her with motions, because she knows what he wants, and she's teasing him with it.

And once she is near enough to him to almost reach, he raises a hand up to what will be her waist level, if she just moves ever-so-slightly closer to him.

"C'mere, my love."

She does know what he wants, and she's more than happy to give it to him! She moves that little bit closer, lets him feel the smoothest silk he's ever felt. It's warm now too, from her body heat, delicate and far stronger than its appearance would suggest. Whatever the pinprick sparkles are made of, they are cool under his fingers by comparison.

"Like this, or did you want me closer?"

"Want you much closer," he mutters under his breath. "But I would not risk harm to this dress."

He feels as if his fingers should catch and snag against the material, but they strangely do not - it is much stronger than he imagined, and at the same time, the touch is smooth and soft, almost impossibly so.

"My mind cannot wrap around this material. It is...unnatural," he murmurs, still studying it as he trails his fingertips up from her waist, skating along her ribcage, to glide and settle beneath one of her breasts. "And fascinating."

"You won't hurt it," she assures him. "I saw a dress like it resist a sharp blade and considerable force, Fair Folk magic."

Her breath catches as his fingertips skate along her ribcage, settle beneath one of her breasts.

"As long as you're certain," he 'asks' her. When she nods her confirmation, he backs them close to the bed and pulls her gently to settle onto his lap, his hand sliding to her hip to hold her close to him, keep her from falling as she winds her arms around his neck.

And she was right! It does not snag. His other hand toys with the neckline as he leans in to catch her mouth in a kiss - this one much less chaste than the ones previous.

She settles on his lap and matches his much less chaste kiss with a much less chaste kiss of her own. This kiss has an edge of hunger, of WANT, to it. Her hands wander, tease, toy briefly with the feathers of his wings.

When they break for air, she grins. "Bet I could ride your cock without taking this dress off," she pants.

The sound that Skellig makes in response to that statement is a mix between a whine and a growl, very much a yes please thank you very much - he is not quite ready for that, but with the way she is kissing him and teasing at his feathers, it should not take long.

"That's a bet I'm willing to take," he laughs breathlessly, leaning in for another kiss, bringing his hand to tease at her nipple through the silk as he does so.

She moans into his mouth as he teases her nipple through the silk, nipple starting to harden under his fingers. That feels so good, but she's going to need a lot of stimulation before she's ready to ride him comfortably.

"Good," she purrs. "Want to make you feel so good, make all those lovely sounds you make just for me."

With as thick and soundproof as these walls are within the Lair, it would be wise of her brother to not lie about his estimated arrival time...simply because this final evening of pleasure will likely be full of lovely sounds he makes, just for her.

"Will gladly be as loud as you'd like," he says. "Since while we are traveling, we may have to show a much higher level of discretion...it would be in our best interests to get it out of our system tonight."

Might as well be smart about it! He smirks. "Kiss me like you mean it, dragon. See how loud you can make me groan for you."

If her brother shows up early, he has no one but himself to blame for overhearing sex noises!

Is he bold or foolish to dare a dragon? Whichever it is, she CLAIMS his mouth with her kiss, her energy wild and ravenous for her mate!

And yet, ravenous as she is, there is also the same infinite patience she showed on the beach the night they were joined. She wants to savor every morsel of his pleasure, unfurl the secrets of his ecstasy slowly and carefully, the way she mapped out how to touch his wings to drive him wild.

One hand remains at the back of his neck to stroke the sensitive spot there, but the other teases his lower back as she straddles his lap, presses herself against him.

It would be fair to call him both bold and foolish, for daring any dragon - but to dare his dragon is another matter entirely! Skellig accepts the 'challenge' and allows himself to be claimed with her kiss, melting into it (while not completely collapsing into a puddle) and groaning happily at the sensations that ripple through his body.

Between her kisses and her touches, this feels good. He tips his head back slightly to press his neck into her strokes, runs a hand up her stomach, his fingertips exploring the layers of the sheer fabric, the alternating warm silk and cool shimmer.

It does feel good, and his responses only serve to make the flame of her desire burn hotter.

She moans softly into his mouth as his fingertips explore the fabric over her stomach. The silk alters the feeling just enough that the sensation is a novel pleasure.

Her hand that was at his back wanders, will remove any clothing Skellig might still be wearing, then work on 'adjusting' her dress so that none of it is underneath either of them. Silk slides over his thighs as she works.

They have enjoyed this 'dance' enough times together that managing to get their clothes off/out of the way is a relatively straightforward process; it doesn't take long until she's gotten rid of his clothing and he is as helpful as he possibly can at adjusting her dress to give him better access to her body.

"Much easier for you to move, in this dress," he pants softly between kisses, a shiver running down his spine as the silk runs over his thighs. "And you are right, it is strong."

He can run his hands all over it, all over her body, with no risk of a snag or tear - which he does so eagerly.

"Much easier," she pants.

She moans, shifts her hips, as his hands run all over her body. "Yes, more," she gasps. "Want your hands everywhere."

She shifts her weight forward to encourage him to lay back on the bed. Her hands are stroking everywhere she can reach. His chest, his belly, his arms, his legs.

He flares his wings to get them out of the way as he lays back on the bed, moving his body and pulling her along with him to get them closer to the center (not like it is entirely needed, as this bed is plenty big enough for the both of them) of the bed.

"Will touch all that I can reach," he promises.

Which he does, slipping his hands under the silk to stroke over her bare skin - this is an entirely different sensation - feeling the curves of her hips, her waist, the gentle planes of her stomach and ribs, the swell of her breasts.

"My hands are not nearly as smooth as that silk," he adds, leaning up to press a flurry of kisses to her lower jaw. "But I think you do not mind."

Edited 2024-08-28 01:34 (UTC)

"Not at all," she replies. "Like your hands, because they're yours."

She matches his hands with her own, stroking him where he's stroking her, slow and teasing. Her hands aren't as soft as silk either, but she doubts HE minds!

She rubs her pelvis against his just a little, teasing. "Let you start thinking about how you want to get me ready to ride you," she purrs in his ear. "Do you want me to ride your fingers or your mouth to get nice and wet, all warmed up for your cock?"

She teases his nipples, strokes his stomach slowly. dances her fingers across his ribs.

Leaning in closer to press his lips against her ear, he growls playfully under his breath.

"Will be easier to slip my fingers under your chiton while we are traveling, if we find we simply cannot resist the need for each other...can bring you pleasure with my hands while kissing you to help you stay quiet..."

He nips her earlobe lightly.

"So I think I would like to warm you up with my mouth, use my tongue while I am able, since we are not at risk of being disturbed tonight."

She shivers delightedly at the image his words paint in her mind, at his nip of her earlobe. "My husband is wise," she whispers, voice breathy with want.

She kisses his neck, scrapes gently with her teeth. "Let me know when you are ready to devour me, hm?" she purrs. "Will be easy for you to taste your fill when I'm riding your face."

Skellig does really quite enjoy it when she nips at him - there's some sort of thrill that is primal and basic (probably because he knows she could devour him in a single bite if she wanted to, and yet she chooses to simply enjoy and pleasure him instead) in nature.

"Riding my face and my cock, in one night," he laughs, wickedly. "You are making quite the effort to spoil me, my love. Give me just a moment..."

He skates his hands along the tops of her thighs beneath the dress, slips one between her legs to skim over her arousal - after all, he should see what he's working with to start, right?

"I would gladly make EVERY effort," she replies, grinning wickedly.

She moans, loud, as his hand skims over her arousal. She's turned on, but it's going to take quite a bit of work with his mouth to get her 'ready'. (Her dance did less for her than it did for HIM, apparently.)

(Apparently so - this will not do!)

He is already half-hard and highly turned on, simply from watching her dance and her kisses - the fact that she is not as riled up as he is makes him contemplate, briefly, what he might do to fix that.

"One day you will have to teach me to dance for you," he muses, as he teases at her clit with his fingertips, gentle and slow, easing into his touches. "And then I could give you the same pleasure you give to me simply with my movements. Tie you to the bed frame, tease you and touch you?"

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