[ she knows what it is to hunger, which is why she takes so much enjoyment out of feeding him. the feeling that he could be satisfied, that he could be satiated, even for a moment. she knows what it takes to change, knows what it means to be rebirthed, and knows what goes into each of these processes.
and so she fills it, feeds it, because she knows what it is to hunger. and in turn, he comes back to her - drawn to her, pulled to her, and each time he returns it feels like a competition. his hands on her skin, the spark of his starlight, the force of it, the celestial weight of him. she's drawn to him just as she's always drawn to this sort of change, this sort of power, to him. this pull has been there for as long as she can remember, before the two of them were even made into these heralds, these images, but some simple truths remain.
his eyes flare like stars in the night at her offer, at her words, and yennefer drinks in the very sight. he lowers her to the bed and she lets him, arhing up the barest amount as he hovers above her lips. they don't kiss, their lips don't touch, but she can feel the heat of that spark, of his magic. here, they are safe from prying mortal eyes. here, she lets her own power settle into the air around them - shifting, moving, filling the spaces between their bodies - however wide or small, a pressure keeping him close. pulling him closer.
as he slides down her body, she shifts herself - more comfortable, more settled, up on her elbows to watch as he lowers himself down to his knees. it's a good look, for him, for this exchange, for them - it always has been. and then she feels his mouth, and the noise that escapes her is pleased, and the smile that splits her face matches just how widespread the sound is, too. as she spreads out across the bed, falls back to let the spark of his touch, the warmth of his lips, work at her.
his hand reaches for her's, and she slides her fingers between his. squeezes them as she keens, feels the swirl in her gut build and build with his attentions. and she lets him know it - she's never been a particularly quiet type, and even as he murmurs against her, she lets out a laugh - light, airy, loose. ]
You're ah- you're moving in the right direction. [ her legs start to move, her body starting to writhe - slowly, at first, but it's a queue for the overall sensation, for what is building, growing. the room itself begins to blur at the edges as she lets her own control slip, the very shape of the space around them bending with it. ]
no subject
and so she fills it, feeds it, because she knows what it is to hunger. and in turn, he comes back to her - drawn to her, pulled to her, and each time he returns it feels like a competition. his hands on her skin, the spark of his starlight, the force of it, the celestial weight of him. she's drawn to him just as she's always drawn to this sort of change, this sort of power, to him. this pull has been there for as long as she can remember, before the two of them were even made into these heralds, these images, but some simple truths remain.
his eyes flare like stars in the night at her offer, at her words, and yennefer drinks in the very sight. he lowers her to the bed and she lets him, arhing up the barest amount as he hovers above her lips. they don't kiss, their lips don't touch, but she can feel the heat of that spark, of his magic. here, they are safe from prying mortal eyes. here, she lets her own power settle into the air around them - shifting, moving, filling the spaces between their bodies - however wide or small, a pressure keeping him close. pulling him closer.
as he slides down her body, she shifts herself - more comfortable, more settled, up on her elbows to watch as he lowers himself down to his knees. it's a good look, for him, for this exchange, for them - it always has been. and then she feels his mouth, and the noise that escapes her is pleased, and the smile that splits her face matches just how widespread the sound is, too. as she spreads out across the bed, falls back to let the spark of his touch, the warmth of his lips, work at her.
his hand reaches for her's, and she slides her fingers between his. squeezes them as she keens, feels the swirl in her gut build and build with his attentions. and she lets him know it - she's never been a particularly quiet type, and even as he murmurs against her, she lets out a laugh - light, airy, loose. ]
You're ah- you're moving in the right direction. [ her legs start to move, her body starting to writhe - slowly, at first, but it's a queue for the overall sensation, for what is building, growing. the room itself begins to blur at the edges as she lets her own control slip, the very shape of the space around them bending with it. ]