[ The first few times she'd reached into his head, it had feltβ not strange, necessarily, but certainly new. A flicker of light, of a timbre and color he'd never seen before. Exposure has made it more familiar, as has the experience of being brought into his own mind β not so far removed, ultimately, from getting used to cohabitation. He never asks if it makes a difference, but he does his best to be conscious of keeping his mind open, pliant, like a well-loved book rather than one with a stiff, cracking spine, for her to peruse as she pleases.
He laughs as the image of her blooms in his vision, the sound fizzling into a hum against her lips. The ways in which he wants her are increasingly transparent, visible in how eager he is to kneel for her, to devote himself to the lessons she sets for him, and most explicitly in the letters he writes to her, hard evidence of a seemingly endless love. He's thinking of her, always, compelled rather than burdened by the promises he's made to her of a life beyond this.
There are images, under fine silt rather than layers of sediment, of the Lighthouse in the Fade, of Nevarra, the Grand Necropolis, each place altered just so to accommodate the newness of her.
And now, simply, ] Yes, mistress.
[ His hands urge her upward as he pushes himself down the length of the bed, his mouth finding her knee, her thigh, the soft skin between her legs β halfway, already, to fulfilling the first fantasy she'd planted in his head. ]
no subject
He laughs as the image of her blooms in his vision, the sound fizzling into a hum against her lips. The ways in which he wants her are increasingly transparent, visible in how eager he is to kneel for her, to devote himself to the lessons she sets for him, and most explicitly in the letters he writes to her, hard evidence of a seemingly endless love. He's thinking of her, always, compelled rather than burdened by the promises he's made to her of a life beyond this.
There are images, under fine silt rather than layers of sediment, of the Lighthouse in the Fade, of Nevarra, the Grand Necropolis, each place altered just so to accommodate the newness of her.
And now, simply, ] Yes, mistress.
[ His hands urge her upward as he pushes himself down the length of the bed, his mouth finding her knee, her thigh, the soft skin between her legs β halfway, already, to fulfilling the first fantasy she'd planted in his head. ]