a lion among ladies

[backstreetbard]

[ Dorothea doesn't exactly love spending time in the cathedral of Garreg Mach's campus, as stunning as the stained glass windows and flying buttresses are to behold. She hasn't put stock in the Seirosi faith since she was six years old.

In spite of that, she can still be seen there often in the days following the mission to quell the Western Church's rebellion in Gaspard territory, her hand rubbing circles in Ashe's back. She understands what it feels like to lose a parent, though she doesn't speak of it; instead, she only listens as he very gradually works his way through the shock and pain. Sometimes the only comfort is commiseration.

It's draining, though. She has to step back eventually, to try and shake off the old familiar feelings that watching another orphan in mourning dredges up in her.

Standing on the bridge that leads to the cathedral, she inhales the fresh mountain air and releases a sigh as she looks out over the scenery. A flash of blue in her peripheral vision catches her attention, though, and she's back on stage, turning to face her new house leader. ]

On your way to pray?

Comments

[hauntedking]

"Oh, no... I can't sleep either," Dimitri admits, a touch sheepishly. He props himself up on his elbow as she sits up, watching her in the dark, trying to read her expression. He isn't quite sure what the matter is until she speaks and he realizes it's something he's having trouble with as well.

He clears his throat.

"...I... think I understand. Very well," he says slowly, "...it's on my mind as well. Even with my promise."

[backstreetbard]

Covering her face, Dorothea gives a small laugh and shakes her head.

"I really will be fine alone for the night if you want to return to your room. Unless... maybe it would be all right if I--no, no, never mind. We shouldn't."

[hauntedking]

"Shouldn't... what?" Dimitri replies. He can feel his face burn a little and his heart start to race. There's a heat in him that's growing and he knows he ought to tamp down on. Maybe he ought to leave.

But he doesn't want to.

Instead, his tongue wets his lips and he squeezes her hand tightly, "...tell me."

His voice has dropped a little lower. Perhaps unconsciously.

[backstreetbard]

"I-I was going to say that maybe I could... rest my head on your shoulder. It's such a silly thing to be embarrassed about, but I want to respect you because I love you so much. I understand you wanting to wait, and I'll wait for you as long as it takes."

Even if it feels like her insides are burning when he squeezes her hand. If her pent-up arousal gets much worse, she's going to need the room to herself to take care of her needs.

[hauntedking]

"Dorothea..." Dimitri murmurs and then, on impulse, he rolls onto his side and reaches out to tug her close, nestling her head against his shoulder.

"I don't mind. I honestly don't. I feel... I feel quite the same, you know."

His thoughts about waiting are very quickly turning into so much chaff.

[backstreetbard]

Dorothea gasps softly, her breath warm against the skin of Dimitri's throat. Ahh, now this is really difficult; the hand still holding his is sandwiched between their bodies, but the other floats above him hesitantly for a moment before settling against his hip. Their knees are knocked together, their bodies so close that she can feel each breath. She murmurs his name in a way that's almost reverent as she snuggles in against him.

It doesn't serve to make her less aroused, unfortunately. In fact, Dimitri can probably feel the way her nipples have gone rigid through the thin fabric of her nightgown when each deep inhalation presses her chest more firmly against his, or maybe even the heat radiating from the apex of her thighs. It's a little embarrassing, honestly, so she tries to go completely still. It only works so much; tipping her head back slightly, the tip of her nose grazes the skin of Dimitri's throat.

Yeah, there's no way she's going to sleep now.

[hauntedking]

Dimitri is acutely aware of where their legs tangle together. Of where their chests meet and he can feel the soft swell of her breasts pressed against him - and the hardened peaks of her nipples pressing against him through two thin layers of cloth. His throat works in a swallow and his head goes back a little as her nose brushes his throat. His breath catches in his throat and his mind can't function for a few moments as he tries to think and he can feel himself growing and hardening between his legs. It's too late for him to try and pull back now - it's going to be very obvious in a moment.

So instead he leans into her.

"Dorothea," he murmurs, voice low and breathless, "...may I kiss you?"

He's such an idiot.

[backstreetbard]

It's the last request she would have expected him to make of her, but she can't deny him anything he asks for in that tone of voice especially. It makes her whole body shiver in his arms.

"Please."

Dorothea hardly even waits for him to be the one to close the gap between them, pulling herself closer until their hungry mouths meet. She still tries to be good, letting their kiss remain (relatively) chaste until she feels his erection straining against the fabric of his pants. She moans softly as the last shreds of restraint she'd been maintaining slip away in favor of wrapping her arms around him. Her leg hikes up to drape over his thigh, not as suggestive as if she'd settled around his waist, but the message is clear: she wants him so badly that she can hardly stand it.

[hauntedking]

No more words for now. As soon as their lips meet, he groans against her lips and he's lost in her. It's hungry and needy and wanting as their bodies press together and her leg hikes against his thigh. He presses closer still, one hand against the small of her back and his own thigh pressing between her legs. It only takes him a moment to roll her onto her back and to slide on top of her, a hand braced alongside her to hold himself up-right as he leans down to continue the kiss.

Any thought of stopping has been banished by the sheer need that seems to be burning through his veins. All he think about is being closer; as close as possible until there's no space left between them, until there's no spot where he ends and she begins.

It helps that he's managed to work a knee between her legs as well.

[backstreetbard]

She might have suggested restraint, might have suggested they keep their clothes on as they'd done before, but her body is burning and even the thin nightgown she's wearing feels like too much. She's practically drowning in it, not just because of the heat from her own body but from his as well. Dimitri is like a furnace, but the warmth radiating from him makes it almost unbearable.

With trembling fingers, Dorothea tugs at the lace that holds the front of her gown together, and the bow comes undone with a soft hiss, falling open like the petals of a flower to reveal her pale skin.

[hauntedking]

Restraint has gone entirely by the wayside at this point, even for Dimitri. Whatever misgivings he might have had are now stripped away by the torrent of sheer need and arousal that goes tearing through and over him. He's breathing heavily, mouth feeling dry as she tugs open the front of her gown. The glimpse of that pale curve of her breasts makes his cock throb and the heat in his belly flare and he groans aloud.

"Dorothea..." He keeps his voice to a whisper, but it's obvious just how much want is in his tone all the same. He lifts a hand, hesitates, and then cups one of her breasts. He's trembling slightly, his touch almost too gentle as he rolls it against his hand, marveling at the heat and the feeling of her soft skin.

[backstreetbard]

Oh Goddess. The way he groans just at the sight of her skin is enough to make her squirm, to press her thighs together in the hope of creating a little friction. Compared to what he has to offer, it just isn't enough.

"Dima." Reaching up, she touches his face gently, combing through his hair with her fingers until she can cup the back of his head and pull him down. She isn't pulling his face to hers, though, but rather directing him down until his lips are a hair's breadth from the valley between her breasts. "Won't you kiss me, my darling?"

[hauntedking]

Dimitri's eyes go wide as she tugs his head down and then he very happily does as he's asked, his lips brushing against the skin of her chest, trailing a line of wet, open-mouthed kisses between her breasts. They start slow and then begin to come faster as he gains confidence and his arousal begins to crowd out other concerns. Then his lips slide to one side and he takes a nipple gently between his teeth, tongue lashing against the hardened little peak of flesh.

He's listening for another command; for a sound of pleasure. Anything to tell him he's on the right track.

[backstreetbard]

Instead of a command, she gives him first a sigh, then a whimper, then a soft moan. Her back arches, pressing herself up against him, wanting more contact. The moonlight filtering in through her window rings him in pale white, and she's certain he's the most beautiful thing she's ever seen.

She says his name again, a plea as much as anything. His body above her, arms braced to her sides, makes her feel so safe and loved, but the heat burning in her belly demands even more.

Running her hands over the planes of his back, she brings her knees up to make room for him to get even closer. It makes sense, too, to tug up the hem of his shirt so he's in the same state of undress as she.

[hauntedking]

Dimitri doesn't need to be told or asked again. As she tried to get his shirt off, he sat up and tugged it over his head in a rush. He might look a bit slender when he's wearing the uniform, but underneath it there's quite a bit of well-developed muscle from training and sparring. He took a moment to draw a breath, looking down at her in the pale light of the moon. She's beautiful and he said so - a low whisper meant only for her ears - and then he bent over her again to press a hungry, needy kiss against her lips.

Things were running away from him.

His hand found her breast again and squeezed, fingers toying with her nipple. Admittedly, he was a bit clumsy, but he wanted to try and make her feel good. He also settled between her legs, the ache and hardness of his arousal pressed against one of her thighs through the fabric of his trousers. The thought of being even closer to her - of being totally bare - was maddening.

"Can I - can we be even closer?"

Not exactly direct, but he wasn't skilled at the whole dirty talk thing.

[backstreetbard]

It's safe to say that they're both equally infatuated with each other, equally in awe of the other's beauty. Dorothea runs her fingers over the taut muscle of Dimitri's abdomen as he lowers himself to kiss her. His needy touches and hungry kisses are enough to drive her to distraction, but the hard length of him against her thigh is almost too much to handle.

"Yes," she says, responding to his question by reaching between them to impatiently undo the laces of his trousers, gasping softly when she succeeds and his cock springs free into her waiting hands. Oh. Oh, Goddess. He's so big. It doesn't intimidate her, though, but only serves to excite her in anticipation of the way he'll feel.

"I want you inside me, Dima."

[hauntedking]

"I - I want that, too," Dimitri admitted, voice low. He shudders as her hands free him and he sits up again - although this time it's to try and tear his trousers off. There's a bit of shuffling before he can free himself from them and then he's over her again, hands hiking up her nightgown so he can see more of her. There's a hand - gentle, careful - between her legs feeling for her sex and trying to see just how ready she is. Everything is accelerating now, moving faster and faster, and Dimitri can't bring himself to stop.

"I love you," he continues, "I love you, I love you-"

[backstreetbard]

In spite of her thin undergarments, it's plainly obvious how aroused she is--so much so that her wetness has soaked through the fabric. Dorothea lifts her hips to let the panties slide down her thighs and then tosses them onto the floor, but Dimitri is on her too quickly for her nightgown to come off and join the growing pile of discarded clothing.

Her skin is flushed, damp with sweat in a room that feels like it's getting hotter and hotter every moment. Her gown is hiked up to her ribs, pooling around her on the bed. Dimitri loves her, and he wants her, and everything is going to be all right.

"I love you," she responds in kind, pulling him down against her and using a soft hand to guide him into position. "Go slowly at first, all right?"

[hauntedking]

The room feels far too closed in for them, but he can't bring himself to care much. Not when she's in front of him and he has a chance to watch her simply slide her underwear straight off, exposing herself to him completely. He stammers for a moment, trying to find the right words. They don't come easily, perhaps because his brain is short-circuiting a little. So instead he bends over her, nestling his thighs underneath her own and trying to angle her hips up to meet him. The hard, curved line of his cock slides against an inner thigh and then the slickened tip drags against the wet heat between her legs and he has to hold in a groan.

She's so close. All he has to do is angle his hips and slide home, he knows it. Another part of him is also dimly aware that he should be using some kind of protection here, but he's also far too lost in his own lust to want to stop. Not when the slickness of her feels so good against him. He bites back another moan and then - then he finally does start to roll his hips against her, the tip slowly spreading her open and then slipping inside of her. He trembles as he moves, going as slowly as he dares, feeling how she envelops him.

"Dorothea..."

[backstreetbard]

Dorothea's hands fist into the blankets on either side of her and she bites her lip to hold in the sound she makes when he pushes his hips forward. It's a stretch, but not a painful one--she gives way to him until he's buried to the hilt.

"Dimitri!"

It's a bit of a strangled whisper--Dorothea is well aware that the entire student body (and some of the faculty) could be alerted to their nocturnal activities if she loses control of her volume. She wishes she could, though. She would shout his name loud enough for the Goddess to hear from the Blue Sea Star if she could, because only divine intervention could move someone like him to love her the way he does.

Stillness falls in the room for a moment as she catches her breath, allowing her to acclimate to the feeling of him. After a few seconds, she grinds up against him, urging him to move.

[hauntedking]

Dimitri doesn't have words; not right now, anyway. He's lost in her, breath gasping free of him as he tries to hold himself in check. It's hard though. Incredibly hard. She is warm and wet and she is so close. He can feel himself threatening to unravel with just this. But he stills and waits for her, face buried in against her throat so he can kiss her skin and mute his own ragged breathing. And it's only when she grinds against him (and he shudders) that he begins to move. It's stuttering and slow as he tries to keep himself controlled, but it's so hard when every motion in and out threatens to overwhelm him. It's perfect in so many different ways. The bed creaks under them as he begins to find a rhythm and he chases that high; that pleasure.

[backstreetbard]

Dorothea loses track of time completely once Dimitri really sets a rhythm for them. Nothing exists but their bodies, this primal dance as old as nature itself. The church would condemn them for this, surely, but Dorothea could never accept that what they're doing is wrong--not when they love each other so much.

Each thrust sends sparks up her spine, every kiss makes her skin burn with pleasure. This isn't her first time, but it feels different than any time she's ever done it before. Is that the difference that love makes?

Her legs wrap around his waist, muscles drawing taut in a way that digs her heels into the small of his back. She's let go of the blanket to hold onto him instead, her nails digging into the meat of his shoulders.

[hauntedking]

It is Dimitri's first time, however. So the pleasure feels incredible to him; so much different from the furtive self-pleasure he's taken before. Every part of him feels electric. He wants to touch her as much as he can. He wants to be as close as he can. He kisses her again and then again. He's burning up and all he wants to do is go faster and faster still.

He should think about consequences.

He doesn't.

"Dorothea-" Her name emerges as a hoarse cry, muffled by his face being buried against her shoulder and he drives as deep as he can and he's overwhelmed by pleasure. There's a long, low moan, shuddering as he fills her.

[backstreetbard]

Dimitri climaxes before she does, but she follows on his heels; the way he holds and kisses her, the heat of him spilling himself in her, how the base of his cock hits her at just the right angle when he bears down on her, his heartbeat thundering inside and around her--it washes over her in shivering waves. The sound of her voice is held back by a hand pressed to her mouth, but the sound gives way to soft panting as she catches her breath.

She holds him tight even in the afterglow, but her grip goes slack as she relaxes. In the back of her mind she knows that the morning will be tricky. For now, she just traces soft little patterns on his back with her fingertips.

"I love you, Dima. Thank you for... sharing yourself with me. It feels so special."

[hauntedking]

Dimitri isn't thinking about the morning; he's lost in the moment, feeling as if he's floating along iwth her. He wraps his arms around her and plants another kiss, feeling drained and content and warm.

"I love you, too, Dorothea. Words... can't describe it," He murmurs, "This... this was so good."