Many a time wild imaginings pondered the brutality those hands were capable of, the same that touched the soft pink of her silken lip so tenderly.  She'd known about his line of work, the gruesome stories of his past.  Dimitris had been a blade for hire and she did not feign ignorance on what that entailed.  It was grizzly, grotesque, a sombre reminder that evil thrived in this world.  So long as men desired power there would always, always be a wealthy coward who thought that the price of human life was worth its weight in coin.  She'd never faulted him; never felt a twinge of fear that she may meet the end of his blade.  Ethel wanted - more than anything - to believe that he'd found little pleasure in the act.  That if given the choice, he'd choose honest work beyond the scope of his father's grasp.  Here in Sanctuary, she'd seen him change into an honourable man who made his living hunting beasts instead of men.  She thought little of it now as the low timbre of his voice, such a simple thing, made her feel weak against the burly strength of his frame.  Ethel couldn't help but gingerly brush her lips against the pulse in his wrist nor could she restrain the rush of sensations that came with it.  The fluttering of her stomach; the racing hum of her heart.  The overwhelming urge to touch him, to feel his lips against her once more.  She smiled wide and true while looking deeply into the lone pool of icy blue.  "Stay with me..."  Oh, how her face burned a vivid shade of red until she was certain the skin would sizzle beneath his hand.  "Tonight."  Restraint was abandoned in the way she relented to previous urgings by running her fingers through the soft locks of his ivory hair.  In part she was afraid to let go, afraid that if she did that some cruel God would rip this away.  God of slumber, perhaps, toying with a young girls heart - a dream she wished to never wake from.  Or the depraved hand of a father who thought himself mightier than any king.  She wouldn't let him slip from her hands.   It was, indeed, selfish, she knew.  To kiss him like she did, to let herself delve into this sordid embrace.  The way it made her skin dance, the sensations rushing like an adrenaline high.  She wanted more - needed - more and so she'd abandon herself to that heathen will and press her fevered mouth to his once more.  A mouth that sought to intrude, to taste the slick edge of his tongue, to cast away any doubt that this was anything but reality. ‘All that we see or seem’, ‘Is but a dream within a dream.

Jahi

I'LL USE YOU AS A WARNING SIGN. . .

The air was electric as he breathed it in, as it ran through the span of his lungs. It felt as though he exhaled smoke, fire gathered within his chest that burned with an intoxicating heat that bore no pain. Perhaps it was numbed by the surge of adrenaline, enough that he could no longer recognize the conflagration that smoldered like hot coals fanned with each and every inhale. Each and every touch fueled them ever further, the soft glissade of her lips upon his wrist sewing more until he would eventually be wholly engulfed. The lapse of her fingertips as they brushed sere nails across his scalp, fisting within the pale ivory of his hair.

"Stay with me..." just above a whisper, her features hot beneath his hand as if she too were burning from within. "Tonight." The askance was followed by the more hedonistic press of her mouth, a savage kiss that had him relinquishing a low growl as her tongue trespassed the threshold of his lips. He yearned now, more than ever, for the ability to taste, to partake of the wine she favored. The fervor of her affections had him pressing closer to her, the heat of her askance unwinding his arms from her as his left braced harshly behind her along the wall to which her back now resided. His right wrapped with a tenderly rough grasp around her wrist, bringing her delicate palm to the hard lines of his chest, allowing the one within his hair to remain.

He was trying to maintain his restraint, the ginger care he had placed upon her prior, and yet it was becoming ever more difficult, a feat shown with which he tightened his fingers around the pulse that hammered beneath them. Patience, he reminded himself, a resounding mantra - almost a plea - and yet he was not a man of many virtues, least of all this. Attempt was made in the way he would draw away from her kiss once more, teeth nipping softly against the corner of her mouth, a heavy breath falling against her cheek. "Say it again," came the low command, vocals rough, a reverberating grumble with the husky intonation that invoked them. Loud within the cage his body molded around her dulcet frame. Confirmation, affirmation. Such reassurance he needed, a desperate heed to see he had not heard wrong.

He would shift his weight, taking a slight step back, maintaining the hint of distance in the form of her extended arm, the one he placed in restraint against the breadth of his chest. His head lowered slightly, each exhale warm, pressed fervently against her skin, along the precious curve of her throat where his ravenous stare rested. Careful, more measured came his vocals this time, "Tell me what you want." And yet despite the control that filled them, they were followed by the bite of his teeth, scathing, hungry as they threatened to pierce the softness of her flesh.

!

. . . THAT IF YOU TALK ENOUGH SENSE THEN YOU'LL LOSE YOUR MIND

Her skin would burst at any moment to reveal the molten flesh beneath, the scorching rivers of her veins an oil fire unrestrained.  Nothing so perfervid could remain hidden by the laundering screen of confidence - for him, her body was a traitor.  Subversive in the way it subtly writhed with wanton want.  Betraying in the way a purring coo trickled from the back of her throat as their tongues intertwined.  His mouth was warm, welcoming, consuming - everything that Ethel couldn't begin to fathom even in her most explicit of dreams.  Even his hair was somehow softer, his presence someway broader but his touch... like coarse velvet to her supple skin. There was a flare of surprise when Dimitris shifted, its sensation overwhelmed by the hooded haunt of haughty silver that devoured every last bit of him that she could.  He moved; he pulled away from the volatile embrace of her lips, her tongue.  Soft mouth pouted at the sudden chill for a brief moment, the unwelcome loneliness satisfied partially by the nip of his teeth and the flare of his breath. Oh, that husky drawl.  It rattled every fibre of Ethel's being, forced her knees to nearly buckle beneath their weight and her fingers to curl slightly against his chest.  A chest thumped with a violent tempo; an equal resonance to her wild hymn.  When he put that measured distance between them, Ethel's hand lowered from the soft locks of his ivory hair to the broad span of his well-hewn shoulder.  Had he always been this muscular?  Then he spoke again, touched her again, and sent her world careening from a series of sensations that could be described as both pleasure and pain.  A soft mewl was the reward for his efforts, a coo of a voice obeying his domineering want.  "You."  She nearly whispered.  Dainty fingers trailed their way along his broad chest, each seeking a button of his shirt in a near frantic effort to see it freed from his body.  To expose him for her eyes alone.  "I want you, Dimitris."  She cooed against his ear before languidly trailing its curve with the tip of her tongue.  ‘All that we see or seem’, ‘Is but a dream within a dream.

Jahi

The soft sounds of her breath, those murmurs that haunted the space in between. She wanted this, a decision made, and yet there was still the haunting uncertainty of dredging thought. He wanted her words, her affirmation. He wanted her certainty, her conviction. It came in a simple word, lingering on the verge of her vocals that hummed gently beneath his mouth. "You." Came the whisper, the sovereign plea. With it, he would fully bite down, primordial, possessive, claiming. The ferocity followed by the soft lavishing lave of his tongue, tender, soothing against the red hot.

He felt her fingers curl against his chest, taunt within the soft fabric of his shirt. Joined by the other as they began to work against the buttons there, felt the fabric loosen its hold upon him at her muted insistence. "I want you, Dimitris." She purred softly against his ear, and he tilted his head slightly at the tease of her own caress. He would release her wrist in full, shrugging free of the button-down to disregard it in a hapless toss at his back.

His own hands ran the length of her sides, calloused grasp bunching in the various materials of her gown, dragging them upwards until they roiled around her hips. His grip was rough against the fabric, saving the softness of her skin the brutality as he pulled her against him, releasing a heavy breath from between clenched teeth. The feel of her flush against him was nigh indescribable, the heat that would have smoldered within his cheeks lay forgotten, consumed by the hunger that had taken its stead.

She was his, at least for this night. There would be no distraction, no dancers, no studio to pull away her attention. There would be no masquerade that played at they were nothing, even with his distance kept and the time spent entirely away. If just for this evening, he would have her entirely. Without excuse, without restraint. How he hated seeing her with that man, the one that clung to her shadow and her every fleeting word. How he loathed each and every instance he caught them together in. He abhorred the way he looked at her, the way his gaze draped like the lace and silks that she wore. He endured it like one would poison.

But not tonight.

A want, a claim that reflected in the way he reclaimed her mouth once more. The way his hand finally relinquished upon one side of her gown, to feel the barren skin of her side, to pull her closer yet. The unfamiliarity of soft and supple a strong contrast against his rough hand. Down, they trailed, over the curve of her hip to the back of her thigh, lifting it - her - to the hollow of his waist.

For all her nineteen years Ethel had never known a want beyond the youthful ache for freedom.  To be away from the ensnaring grasp of a father's reign, to earn liberation from the opiated haze of a mother's scornful stare.  She had never needed anything more than she did now within the arms of devilish temptation.  A sinful lust, an awakening addiction like energy trailing across her skin.  He was a kindling ember igniting the flames of a passion that had never known such infernal vehemence.  A flame which scorched her down to the marrow of her bones.  He was the catalyst, the unravelling hand of sense and reason.  Chaotic heart awoken by revelation.  A startling realization drowned within this tumulous sea of sensations.  It was real, his touch, their confessions, the domineering claim placed upon her neck swiftly lavished with gentle adoration. She sighed for him, a frail attempt to release this lawless energy akin to arid winds pluming from supple lips.  It grew like dandelions in the spring with each unfastened button, with each caress of now bare flesh beneath her pillowed touch.  His chest was like living stone beneath her fingers - a monument to masculinity carved with meticulous care.  Even the scars felt like strings of perfection to her fingertips for they were Dimitris, wholly.  I like you, all of you, marks and all. Ethel moved in compliance to his touch as it roved the length of her curves and hips, her body acting on its own accord since her mind and logic had surrendered to this wanton lunacy.  She braced herself against the cold, wooden wall, letting him hoist the chemise to her waist and expose the soft, porcelain flesh beneath.  Her cheeks burned a violent shade of red but its inferno could not compare to the one that simmered at her core.  Their lips united and she sought to deepen their hold, invading the sanctity of his mouth once more with the possessive claim of her tongue.  She wanted to taste him, devour him.  Leave nothing behind. It seemed that he, too, wished the same as his fingers trailed her thigh and hoisted it, and her, to the breadth of his waist where the veiling cloth of his breeches did little to hide the growing ache.  Hers responded with volatile fire, like water to an oil flame in the way her thighs held him close and her fingers gripped at his shoulders, his hair.  Commanding hips shifted in a subtle motion against him in a quiet challenge.  She wanted to drown in him, wrap herself in every inch of his body that she could.  This night, he would belong to her alone. ‘All that we see or seem’, ‘Is but a dream within a dream.

Jahi

I'LL USE YOU AS A WARNING SIGN. . .

The touch of her soft fingers on the bare of his chest was razing, the slight scrape of her nails. The soft pads dragging over the reminders carved into the skin under her curiosity. Such a strong difference, an alien feeling in comparison to what had marked him so. Never had he been treated so gently, pressing into her exploratory caress, greedy for more of her affection. Always more, something he felt as though he could never sate, never satisfy. Ruination. She was ruining him, piece by piece, one moment at a time. It had begun slow enough, the way she permeated his mind, wormed her way into his thoughts. Now this, to the point the seemed to be under his very skin.

Again, she would meet his mouth, impassioned, starving. When he lifted her, she did not rebuke, lithe legs wrapping around him, and he would partially lean his weight into her, feeling the rough reminder of her camisole. Her hands at his shoulders, in his hair and he would release a low rumble, deepening into something darker as her hips would roll against his own. His grip would tighten against her dulcet skin, pulling her down against him in a fevered grind in answer to her tease. There was a sense of abandon no, the restraint which he had previously shown struggled not to discard entirely.

Another heavy breath, a soft groan against the curve of her ear as he readjusted his grasp, shifted his weight from the wall. Steps carried them the familiar path traced to the open door of his own room. One that smelled faintly of the familiar oils and maintenance of his weaponry, the leather and steel of his armory. A rather empty space as far as decoration was concerned, babbles and knick-knacks hardly being anything with which he concerned himself. Now did not change that idea, either, his attention focused entirely upon her, on the unbearable warmth that flowed like magma through his veins.

It was here he sat her, brushing her lengthy locks from her flushed features, a face he tore his sights away from alas. Finally, his stare would trail over the splay of her frame beneath him as he leaned over her. The way her breast heaved with the plight of air, the way the disheveled article of clothing rolled and slipped over her bodice, the way it remained pooled askew around her hips. Fingertips traced from just above her knee, a soft path up her thigh, and he tore his focus from the sight, once again affixed to her, to the pout of her mouth as his touch lingered under the aegis that remained of her gown, teasing over the covered apex of her thighs as he once more lowered his lips to hers.

!

. . . THAT IF YOU TALK ENOUGH SENSE THEN YOU'LL LOSE YOUR MIND

With every step that Dimitris took throughout the dimly lit halls and quaint rooms of the cottage, a faint sensation of hooded pleasure trilled throughout her maiden's heart.  A muted coo rumbled against his ear, his neck, the stalwart pillar she sought to claim in her mouth the same as he'd done just moments ago.  Felling bite was equally as possessive and lovingly impassioned, bestowing him with that lover's mark sealed with an endearing kiss.  He was making her greedy.  In truth, Ethel very rarely entered this reserved part of their home.  She had always respected his belongings and the space in which they harboured, never willing to invade the sacred grounds of his privacy no matter how tempting it would be.  Only rarely she'd enter his domain just to tidy up, sweep the floor and chase away the growing webs of dust.  One less thing for him to do upon his return; one less thing to distract him away from her. Of all the countless times she'd been in this room she'd never noticed how the bed was overwhelmed with the smell of him.  The faintest hint of the oils from his leather, the musk of his heady skin.  Nor could she fathom how soft it would feel against her back, cradling her lithe silhouette as if it had always belonged there.  Ethel leaned into his broad hand when it brushed away her wild locks and her eyes, a soft mould of adoring silver, drank in the shadow of his looming figure.  Dimitris looked away from the flushed contours of her face and oh how it seared from the way he looked at the rest of her! Dishevelled.  Askew.  But she didn't care how her garment wrinkled and rose; didn't care how a strap had slipped over the curve of her shoulder to expose the soft skin beneath.  Regard was reserved for the trail of his fingers glissading across her skin and the festering heart of her shameless desire.  It was a shock, a startling jolt of static slithering throughout her veins and she could not help but blossom beneath his touch. Lithe legs parted by a whim of lusting instinct.  Her hips moved in languid strides, bidding him touch her, quietly beseeching mercy for these damned flames licking at her thighs.  When his mouth found hers in the dark corners of the pillowed mattress it felt as if her body swam, as if she were spiralling far from the grasp of control.  In truth, she had long since abandoned it.  The tattered remains of her restraint snapped clean.  A sighing moan tangled in the menagerie of fevered lips and endearing kisses, of rolling hips and wanton wishes.  Seeking fingers reached for him in turn, exploring the broad plane of his back - his sides - and the scars upon them.  She explored the muscled depths and the way they rippled beneath her hands until turning into confining cloth.  Ethel's brazen nature knew no bounds, knew no gentle mercy as her hunting hand caressed the bold exterior of his breeches and the budding passion beneath.  ‘All that we see or seem’, ‘Is but a dream within a dream.

Jahi

I'LL USE YOU AS A WARNING SIGN. . .

She rolled beneath him, pressing into his touch, unabashed, or perhaps unable to care any longer over the carnality of the action. They were lost to the tumultuous sea, consumed by the dark waves that swept them far from the coast line, away from comfort, from safety. He was losing himself, a sense known to him, yet condemned with disregard, affirmed by the reaction she poised. She drove him further to that hooded madness, to that menagerie of madness so eager to bleed him dry, and he allowed it without restraint. Her own hands made their way across him, sinew rolling under the pressure of her glissade.

Her soft moan brought a muted gasp from his lips, his weight shifting as her indulgent grasp eagerly ran the heat within his breeches, teeth clenching, head low as he pressed into her palm, releasing another shuddering breath. His lips trailed down the curve of her cheek, nipping softly at the underside of her jaw. He paused at her pulse once more, resisting the urge to once more mark her skin, instead biting his own lip slightly. Simultaneously, he would run the length of his middle finger slowly between her clothed folds, rhythm slow, full against her. It was only then he continued to lavish her, a branding of tooth and tongue that made its way down to where the strap had left her shoulder exposed.

She was beautiful, a sentiment he had awkwardly orchestrated before. Once on the day they were sworn to one another at gunpoint, and again when she had playfully modeled the coral gown within the dress shop. How many other times it had crossed his musings he could not fathom. The way she danced, the small, mindless actions she committed without thought with the same flourish. Her dancer's grace, effortless and without flaw. She was breathtaking, perfection, a silent adoration that he worshipped her with. His his his.

It was this greed that bid him to recline slightly, freeing his other hand from bracing himself over her to now dragging the veiling cloth up her frame. His lips parted slightly as his gaze drank her in without contemplation. Curvature he'd had the opportunity to view once before, and yet had cast the notion away at the time. One he would savor now. His thumb hooked through the thin fabric of her under clothes, baring her entirely to his caress now, a warmth, a heat that made his head tilt lightly as he released a heavy breath. However, he did not stop there, pushing the evening gown further, his palm smoothing over her abdomen. His teeth clenched as he continued lazily working his finger through her slick, stare edging from revealing her bodice entirely to once more study her face. His touch carefully tender as he cupped her breast, unable to keep the molten sapphire of his sight trained on her features. Only for him to still entirely, his own cheeks flushed with heat once again as he noted the silver band that hung loosely against her skin on its dainty chain. The slight hint of a lopsided simper ghosted his lips as he had to avert his gaze after all.

"So... you did keep it.

!

. . . THAT IF YOU TALK ENOUGH SENSE THEN YOU'LL LOSE YOUR MIND

Lithesome fingers eagerly splayed across the growing bulge in his trousers, the pressing need like a brand against her palm.  Carnal and torrid, a subtle motion that compelled her digits to tighten slightly if only to hear that quiet breath wrack his lungs once more.  A tyrannical obsession longed to devour every little pleasured sound he made until he rasped no more - until his body was overwhelmed by the same teeming bliss that rattled down her core.  The brush of his lips made her sigh with contentment and lured the khol-line of her lashes into falling, into melding into one another until all she could see was darkness.  A wildly spinning void that filled with static at the beckon of his slow, caressing finger.  Quivering thighs parted in welcome of him, her hips dipped in time with his steady pace and her body moved to meet the flurry of lavishing tongue and nipping teeth.  Beneath him, she felt beautiful, breathless.  Above all else, she felt something deeper, something more profound than could ever be put into proper words.  Could he feel it too? Could he sense the way her body craved him, how it ached to feel the warmth of his tongue devour every inch of her down to the very soul?  To possess her, to claim her in the way lovers did.  As a man and his wife were oft to do.  Her face flushed violently at the thought of it, of him as he moved to begin slipping the garment away from her body.  It'd been displayed once before in all of its naked splendour back at Lidget's when they'd first met.  This time, however, weighed differently. Back then there were no emotions to scorch their cherub cheeks, no budding heat splintering like forks of kinetic lighting.  Begging hips persisted with their demanding undulation, bringing her one step closer to the apex of this sensual pleasure.  Another soft moan.  A drawn, languid sigh when calloused fingers clutched the splayed flesh of her chest.  She'd cover his hand, giving it - and her breast - a gentle, encouraging squeeze.  Then he stilled and Ethel couldn't help but wonder if she'd offended him somehow or if he was having second thoughts.  Her stomach sunk to her feet at the possibility, one that was quickly chased away by the soft tone of his voice. Ethel peeked down at him to catch a hint of the slanted smile curling those kiss addled lips and the bold, violent stain of red dressing his fair cheeks. Carefully Ethel removed the remainder of the constraining garment to fully expose her torso to him and the sterling chain that held the wedding band.  "For a special occasion."  A wry grin slithered on her lips while nimble fingers worked the chains clasp until she held the ring in her right, outstretched palm.  Just like on the day of their wedding, her left hand was held out in anticipation for the warmed silver to slip upon it.  ‘All that we see or seem’, ‘Is but a dream within a dream.

Jahi

Her touch was enough to lure him back to the heated affair at hand, to distract the boyish, innocent thought away from the ring that circled her throat. Back to the sordid murmurs of her rapture, her desire - his own. There was no demure inclination of innocence in the way she touched him, coaxing forth another heavy exhale from behind clenched teeth. In the way her grasp had a rugged shudder threatening to trail down the length of his spine. How it stoked the flames of heavily building tension. How he couldn’t help the roll of his hips to press further into her sinful caress. Again and again.

Her own lithesome bodice now lay splayed beneath him, uncovered wholly to his view, one that had long strayed back to the beautiful canvas of her curvatures and the silken plight of her skin. Her other hand enclosed his, encouraging, and he obliged, his touch rough in comparison to the softness of her breast. Callous and worked edging over supple and tender, an affectionate swarthiness mirrored by the tease of his lips.

He was rewarded for his touch by another of those soft moans, an intoxicating sound that drove him for wanting more. He would only find pause once more as her hand left his, feeling her shift below him as she withdrew the ring from its supposed safekeeping. His stare was that of pure, unadulterated molten heat as it touched her face, the virulent shades of crimson that stained her cheeks, the beauty of her kiss bruised mouth. The words it formed, the rueful simper that curled those impish lips. The familiarity of the rings placement upon her outstretched hand, like a dream, a fevered thing he must certainly been imagining once again.

However, the bite of the silver as he picked it up was enough to prove this was no fantasia. For in dreams, he was just the same as she, it didn’t sting to touch the delicate band, though it was a trifle thing, one he barely felt. He closed his fingers around it, pressing it into his palm slightly, taking her outstretched fingers into his as he slid the jewelry back onto her delicate finger. Mine. The warmth of his mouth found hers once more in the same breath, possessive, ravenous.

The breadth of his middle finger settled at her entrance, a patience he did not feel entirely guiding the intrusion. The pad of his thumb taking place, grazing, teasing the bundle of nerves. Aching to devour each and every reaction she would give him. Greedy, starving for her attention, for her reaffirmation.