[A gift is a gift. If she likes it, throws it away - its her decision. He, a bit selfish despite himself, wants her to like it, of course he does. But he doesn't want to assume,]
[But here comes the statement, and the hand pressing against him, and he's moving back obediently to let her inside and close the door.]
[ silly vergilius. she's going to treasure this like every other gift she's gotten, well taken care of and thoroughly filled.
malkuth leans against him once the door's closed, sighing. ]
You totally ruined my fun, you know. I wanted to swing by and test your patience a little. [ nothing if honest. ] Now I can't think of anything but how much I'd like to get started writing. The poem is beautiful, by the way -- will you read it to me? So I know how it's supposed to be read?
[ and because she likes hearing him recite poetry, lyrical without music. ]
Of course you did. You really do like to tease me.
[It feels as easy as anything when she leans against him. It feels as hard as anything, still, to embrace her. Old dogs can learn new tricks, but they don't forget old ones.]
[Regardless, he does, hand moving into her hair gently.]
Read it? Very well.
[He doesn't need to do so, with a good memory. He leans down to murmur, for her ears alone.]
I will be gone from here and sing my songs. ...In the forest wilderness where the wild beasts are, And carve in letters on the little trees, The story of my love. And as the trees Will grow, letters too will grow, to cry. ...In a louder voice the story of my love.
[ she does. it's fun, it's funny. adds color to his life and his cheeks. if he asked her to stop she'd feel like she'd pushed him too far.
the immediate response to her leaning against him being to hold her makes her cheeks color though, further deepening it, and she closes her eyes as he murmurs rhythmically the poem he'd penned. her heart flutters and squeezes at the same time, a bird in too small a cage, and malkuth sighs softly at the end of it. as if that would free the tiny thing in her chest. ]
Thanks. For the gift, and the reading. I'll be sure to fill every page, from start to finish, and then ask for another when I still have more to write in the future. My story is far from over.
[ here, there. it's yet to end. it might be finished in his time, but...
... maybe it would be better if it was; there's no guarantee that the her there would see him as anything but a foe, rather than a potential friend. it's saddening to think of, but it's true. ]
So what part of my outfit do you like best? I asked Wriothesley for advice, since he gave a good tip last time, and he said this was the one to put on if I wanted a particular result.
I'm glad. The most I could do is...see your story fulfilled. This guide will hold himself to that.
[That's what he is. It isn't about him. His happiness doesn't matter. He'll lead people like Malkuth and Dante through the Inferno. He's a good guide for anyone he cares for, in the end. And after all is said and done, and the goal is in sight, there will be no more need for a guide.]
[He draws back a little, a slight huff at the mention of Wriothesley (they WOULD get along, wouldn't they) and eyes her up and down. A particular result?]
There's a lot to like. [He's sincere about that. His hands move to cup over her bare shoulders.] But the lack of sleeves is...gorgeous, really.
[ they get along Very well, thank you. one of her favorites for sure.
and... his hands on her shoulders make her shiver a little, pink peeking out from beneath his palms. are her shoulders really so nice? or is it just because of who's looking? kaito had liked them, too. she lets the rest of the coat drop off her and onto the ground, tilting her head back. ]
It's because I cover them all the time, isn't it? You'll get used to this, promise -- I'm trying to prepare for summer.
[ when she'll be having to show them more for temperature regulation...... her free hand pushes him again, this time to the bed. sit. she needs to put her gift down on his nightstand so it's out of the way when she wants to sit on his lap. ]
[Of course, he is malleable, obedient under her touch. He doesn't make much movement himself because he (doesn't deserve it, he shouldn't be selfish, he-) doesn't want to assume for her. He doesn't want to misstep.]
[She settles against him, and he grasps her lightly over her hips.]
You know...is the dress being short as it is also a preparation for summer?
It isn't. I'll be wearing stuff closer to my knees, since that's what I'm comfortable with -- this is just for you.
[ since it shows much of her legs, her thighs, especially when she sits and it rides up just a little. she's curious about what he likes, since she knows vaguely what others enjoy; she's learning what she likes in the same way, through the way their reactions make her feel. if she wants to show off more or less. ]
You're remarkably self-controlled though, Vergilius, I was convinced from my novels that it might distract you even a bit. I guess that's your work experience coming into play.
[ but trust, she isn't disappointed -- just amused, though she should have expected such. for now, it feels... as if she's letting her lead, and while she doesn't mind it, there's something about it that bothers her too. ]
[Just for him, huh. There's a brief shift in expression - almost vaguely bashful - before it goes back to his regular neutral little line of his lips. The tip of his ears betray him, though, tinted red.]
[This is new. This is all new. He really can't fathom it.]
...It is distracting me. [He admits, a bit quietly. Experimentally, a hand moves down from her hip, over her upper thigh, before settling on bare skin.] That's rather...naughty of you.
[ it is, huh. but he doesn't wear it at all. only when she states her reasoning does it click, does he react, and it's charming in its own way. goosebumps meet his bared palm as he touches her and she unconsciously spreads her thighs a little in response, chest rising with a soft inhale. ]
Isn't it? [ cheeky. ] I'm trying something new.
[ teasing him isn't new. but teasing him like this is. being bad isn't so bad though, there's still a sort of comfort in the control she has. the control she can let go as she's comfortable with it. ]
-- Mean, [ comes after a moment, flushing at the mere brush of his thumb. warmth is already swelling between them.
she's soft, but she adores the roughness of his hands, the scrape pleasant in a way she can't explain. how she asks? isn't that an ask enough? but this is good, too. ] I'd like a massage, Mister Vergilius. If you'd be so kind.
[ as if he's anything but kind, to her. in his own ways. ]
I have to be mean. You're so mean to me. It's only fair.
[He is obviously saying it lightly. If he really took offense to anything she did, he'd say so, or be his ever intimidating self.]
[The request goes heard, of course. He leans in, lips brushing up against her cheek as he murmurs against the flush of her cheeks. Red on red. She's so vibrant compared to his dull skin.]
Miss Malkuth. Of course. Where...would you like me to start?
[ she likes his playful meanness. it's a sweet sort, makes her bite back a grin, the words and the brush of a kiss, humming thoughtfully. ]
I don't know if I want you to work your way up or down... [ there's pros to both.
she knows, because she's imagined them. ] How about you guess... where I might need it the most, and go from there? See how well you know me.
[ not that it's hard to think of. while malkuth's an active person by nature, there's definitely points of her body that undergo more wear than others. ]
[He hums at that. Guess where she needs it most? A sort of test. Vaguely. Maybe. He finds it somewhat amusing, though.]
Up or down. Decisions, decisions.
[He did massage her calf once, for her injury. It feels like a lifetime, ago, where something was born. A spark of sorts, deep and heated. He could revisit it now, but this time, he wants to try something different.]
[He reaches to pull one of her arms up to kiss the back of her hand, before turning it over in his grip.]
Let's see those busy hands. [Another light kiss to her palm.] Unless you'd like a different place.
[ her fantasies are between her and the sheets of her bed thanks
her arm, her wrist, are small in his grasp; this is a fact she doesn't seem to tire of, nor of how much she likes her hands (tired, soft but with points of wear incomparable to those with rougher lives) being kissed and held, and each light brush sears her better than any brand. her heart remains battering in her chest, longing to be kissed elsewhere all the same, and she curls her fingers slightly in offering.
but she ought to respond, his color flourishing down her shoulders. ]
No, that's a... a fine start, Vergilius. They've been aching from all the writing I've had to do lately, no matter how often I stretch.
You're so busy. It's good. You're so passionate. But you deserve to rest, too.
[His other hand moves to cup over hers, before pressing his fingers in to intertwine with hers, rocking it a bit as his other hand kneads and strokes down her arm. Solid, gentle, and yet meaningful.]
The red of your flush...the yellow of your dress. You're like a sunrise, there.
Edited (can i spell. time will tell) 2024-05-09 04:45 (UTC)
[ intentional more like, his words and his movements, just as her choice in dress was intentional. malkuth rests her head back and sighs, a small sound escaping with it, squeezing their joined hands in time.
could she be more spoiled, really. is it wrong to be. ]
[Now that gets him to release a little exhale with a sound not unlike the start of a laugh. She's warm. His hands tickle upward, brushing against the base of her neck.]
Of course. All they see is red eyes in the dark. So...you think they're like dusk? Most would say my gaze is like hell.
[ the fires of hell might be as warm, might be as dangerous and ready to light. malkuth shakes her head, straightening a little to catch more of his touch as she sighs. ]
I've been in hell before. [ ruled it in a way. ] I like the way you make me feel way more.
[ there was a kind of self-satisfaction in her work. yes, she was always on the cusp of falling, all it would take is a push to bring her over the edge, but it was that tightrope performance she enjoyed so much... right? knowing that if she succeeded despite the odds, she'd be praised and respected and loved... knowing that if she failed, she would be ridiculed and dismissed as unable to do her task.
maybe she would have been thrown aside like tiphereth a had always wanted for netzach.
the past is the past, but it still influences her some. she turns her head to lay her cheek on his arm best she can. ]
They just think it's hell because you won't let anyone come close enough to learn that your gaze can be heavenly.
It does. And you burn me, most pleasurably. Your warmth is like no other.
[And she has been in hell. He wanders through the Inferno, even now, even in this place. The way she compliments him makes his ears warm up, and its like she's holding her hands against them with the way it feels wonderfully smothering.]
[Your gaze can be heavenly, she says. But how can it be? So many lives. So many destruction.]
[If the angel instructs it, however, then maybe it is so. His hand stroke through her hair, the other coming to knead over the base of her neck.]
[It terrifies him, the strength of emotion in his chest.]
Even heaven can be a burden. [But he'll try to take the compliment.] But you, who have been through everything...I'd lay down a carpet of roses for you on the way there. I would.
[ even heaven asks for the destruction of the beneath, but that's more of hokma's realm. her own is mankind and the path they walk, by choice by circumstance by their own will and not. a smile flutters to her lips and a laugh out of them.
he writes her poetry in so many ways, she can never fully believe it's for her, about her. but who else is here? no one, so it's only logical that it's about her, that it's for her. leaves her warm and wanting for more, throat tightening the way her heart does.
at least the massage is nice and easy to focus on. malkuth hadn't realized how much stress she'd been carrying until he began to work it out. ]
[There's no one else. His gaze is turned for her and her alone right now, hungry and desperate and affectionate. She guides humankind in all its flaws, rolling in her own, and so does he in his own way. She puts her gaze on mortals like him, and he returns that attention tenfold. All for her. Anything for her.]
[The question is a little unexpected, and he muses on it as he rubs up to behind her ear.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[But here comes the statement, and the hand pressing against him, and he's moving back obediently to let her inside and close the door.]
Then let's stay inside.
[Let's.]
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malkuth leans against him once the door's closed, sighing. ]
You totally ruined my fun, you know. I wanted to swing by and test your patience a little. [ nothing if honest. ] Now I can't think of anything but how much I'd like to get started writing. The poem is beautiful, by the way -- will you read it to me? So I know how it's supposed to be read?
[ and because she likes hearing him recite poetry, lyrical without music. ]
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[It feels as easy as anything when she leans against him. It feels as hard as anything, still, to embrace her. Old dogs can learn new tricks, but they don't forget old ones.]
[Regardless, he does, hand moving into her hair gently.]
Read it? Very well.
[He doesn't need to do so, with a good memory. He leans down to murmur, for her ears alone.]
I will be gone from here and sing my songs.
...In the forest wilderness where the wild beasts are,
And carve in letters on the little trees,
The story of my love. And as the trees
Will grow, letters too will grow, to cry.
...In a louder voice the story of my love.
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the immediate response to her leaning against him being to hold her makes her cheeks color though, further deepening it, and she closes her eyes as he murmurs rhythmically the poem he'd penned. her heart flutters and squeezes at the same time, a bird in too small a cage, and malkuth sighs softly at the end of it. as if that would free the tiny thing in her chest. ]
Thanks. For the gift, and the reading. I'll be sure to fill every page, from start to finish, and then ask for another when I still have more to write in the future. My story is far from over.
[ here, there. it's yet to end. it might be finished in his time, but...
... maybe it would be better if it was; there's no guarantee that the her there would see him as anything but a foe, rather than a potential friend. it's saddening to think of, but it's true. ]
So what part of my outfit do you like best? I asked Wriothesley for advice, since he gave a good tip last time, and he said this was the one to put on if I wanted a particular result.
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[That's what he is. It isn't about him. His happiness doesn't matter. He'll lead people like Malkuth and Dante through the Inferno. He's a good guide for anyone he cares for, in the end. And after all is said and done, and the goal is in sight, there will be no more need for a guide.]
[He draws back a little, a slight huff at the mention of Wriothesley (they WOULD get along, wouldn't they) and eyes her up and down. A particular result?]
There's a lot to like. [He's sincere about that. His hands move to cup over her bare shoulders.] But the lack of sleeves is...gorgeous, really.
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and... his hands on her shoulders make her shiver a little, pink peeking out from beneath his palms. are her shoulders really so nice? or is it just because of who's looking? kaito had liked them, too. she lets the rest of the coat drop off her and onto the ground, tilting her head back. ]
It's because I cover them all the time, isn't it? You'll get used to this, promise -- I'm trying to prepare for summer.
[ when she'll be having to show them more for temperature regulation...... her free hand pushes him again, this time to the bed. sit. she needs to put her gift down on his nightstand so it's out of the way when she wants to sit on his lap. ]
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[Seeing them more often, he means.]
[Of course, he is malleable, obedient under her touch. He doesn't make much movement himself because he (doesn't deserve it, he shouldn't be selfish, he-) doesn't want to assume for her. He doesn't want to misstep.]
[She settles against him, and he grasps her lightly over her hips.]
You know...is the dress being short as it is also a preparation for summer?
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[ since it shows much of her legs, her thighs, especially when she sits and it rides up just a little. she's curious about what he likes, since she knows vaguely what others enjoy; she's learning what she likes in the same way, through the way their reactions make her feel. if she wants to show off more or less. ]
You're remarkably self-controlled though, Vergilius, I was convinced from my novels that it might distract you even a bit. I guess that's your work experience coming into play.
[ but trust, she isn't disappointed -- just amused, though she should have expected such. for now, it feels... as if she's letting her lead, and while she doesn't mind it, there's something about it that bothers her too. ]
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[Just for him, huh. There's a brief shift in expression - almost vaguely bashful - before it goes back to his regular neutral little line of his lips. The tip of his ears betray him, though, tinted red.]
[This is new. This is all new. He really can't fathom it.]
...It is distracting me. [He admits, a bit quietly. Experimentally, a hand moves down from her hip, over her upper thigh, before settling on bare skin.] That's rather...naughty of you.
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Isn't it? [ cheeky. ] I'm trying something new.
[ teasing him isn't new. but teasing him like this is. being bad isn't so bad though, there's still a sort of comfort in the control she has. the control she can let go as she's comfortable with it. ]
Would you give me a massage right now if I asked?
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[His thumb brushes up against the inside of her thigh, his expression thoughtful. She's so soft. As always.]
[Cheeky, cheeky. That restless part of him that wants and craves and desires beats so restlessly in his chest. He shouldn't be allowed to have this.]
[She's put herself in his hands and asked him to have it though, right...?]
Hm.
[Maybe he should also be playful here - not so much the stoic guide. A brief smile flits over his lips as he tilts his head.]
That depends on how you ask.
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she's soft, but she adores the roughness of his hands, the scrape pleasant in a way she can't explain. how she asks? isn't that an ask enough? but this is good, too. ] I'd like a massage, Mister Vergilius. If you'd be so kind.
[ as if he's anything but kind, to her. in his own ways. ]
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[He is obviously saying it lightly. If he really took offense to anything she did, he'd say so, or be his ever intimidating self.]
[The request goes heard, of course. He leans in, lips brushing up against her cheek as he murmurs against the flush of her cheeks. Red on red. She's so vibrant compared to his dull skin.]
Miss Malkuth. Of course. Where...would you like me to start?
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I don't know if I want you to work your way up or down... [ there's pros to both.
she knows, because she's imagined them. ] How about you guess... where I might need it the most, and go from there? See how well you know me.
[ not that it's hard to think of. while malkuth's an active person by nature, there's definitely points of her body that undergo more wear than others. ]
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[He hums at that. Guess where she needs it most? A sort of test. Vaguely. Maybe. He finds it somewhat amusing, though.]
Up or down. Decisions, decisions.
[He did massage her calf once, for her injury. It feels like a lifetime, ago, where something was born. A spark of sorts, deep and heated. He could revisit it now, but this time, he wants to try something different.]
[He reaches to pull one of her arms up to kiss the back of her hand, before turning it over in his grip.]
Let's see those busy hands. [Another light kiss to her palm.] Unless you'd like a different place.
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her arm, her wrist, are small in his grasp; this is a fact she doesn't seem to tire of, nor of how much she likes her hands (tired, soft but with points of wear incomparable to those with rougher lives) being kissed and held, and each light brush sears her better than any brand. her heart remains battering in her chest, longing to be kissed elsewhere all the same, and she curls her fingers slightly in offering.
but she ought to respond, his color flourishing down her shoulders. ]
No, that's a... a fine start, Vergilius. They've been aching from all the writing I've had to do lately, no matter how often I stretch.
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[His other hand moves to cup over hers, before pressing his fingers in to intertwine with hers, rocking it a bit as his other hand kneads and strokes down her arm. Solid, gentle, and yet meaningful.]
The red of your flush...the yellow of your dress. You're like a sunrise, there.
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could she be more spoiled, really. is it wrong to be. ]
Do you like the sunrise? Or the sunset better?
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[For her, it's wrong for her to not be spoiled enough.]
[He hums, scarred fingers trailing up to that exposed shoulder to give it a squeeze.]
The sunrise. I like...thinking of the new day. Though I suppose most would consider me a sunset man.
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the fingers on her shoulder raise goosebumps to meet the pads of his hands, closing her eyes. ]
Because it leads to the night? Mister Dark and Gloomy. Or because of your eyes? They are a lovely dusky color.
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Of course. All they see is red eyes in the dark. So...you think they're like dusk? Most would say my gaze is like hell.
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[ the fires of hell might be as warm, might be as dangerous and ready to light. malkuth shakes her head, straightening a little to catch more of his touch as she sighs. ]
I've been in hell before. [ ruled it in a way. ] I like the way you make me feel way more.
[ there was a kind of self-satisfaction in her work. yes, she was always on the cusp of falling, all it would take is a push to bring her over the edge, but it was that tightrope performance she enjoyed so much... right? knowing that if she succeeded despite the odds, she'd be praised and respected and loved... knowing that if she failed, she would be ridiculed and dismissed as unable to do her task.
maybe she would have been thrown aside like tiphereth a had always wanted for netzach.
the past is the past, but it still influences her some. she turns her head to lay her cheek on his arm best she can. ]
They just think it's hell because you won't let anyone come close enough to learn that your gaze can be heavenly.
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[And she has been in hell. He wanders through the Inferno, even now, even in this place. The way she compliments him makes his ears warm up, and its like she's holding her hands against them with the way it feels wonderfully smothering.]
[Your gaze can be heavenly, she says. But how can it be? So many lives. So many destruction.]
[If the angel instructs it, however, then maybe it is so. His hand stroke through her hair, the other coming to knead over the base of her neck.]
[It terrifies him, the strength of emotion in his chest.]
Even heaven can be a burden. [But he'll try to take the compliment.] But you, who have been through everything...I'd lay down a carpet of roses for you on the way there. I would.
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he writes her poetry in so many ways, she can never fully believe it's for her, about her. but who else is here? no one, so it's only logical that it's about her, that it's for her. leaves her warm and wanting for more, throat tightening the way her heart does.
at least the massage is nice and easy to focus on. malkuth hadn't realized how much stress she'd been carrying until he began to work it out. ]
Have you ever thought about gardening?
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[The question is a little unexpected, and he muses on it as he rubs up to behind her ear.]
...I never thought about it, no.
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