Something stirs in her head at that. Not guilt, though she suspects that it should be, but something else. Recognition, maybe. Yes, that's right — back when she'd still been just a brat playing at being an idol and Saitou had sent her to Lala Lie to straighten out her act. The workshop's halfhearted little production for all its fledgling talents had been A Midsummer Night's Dream and she and that boy had played two of its most important characters. He'd been Oberon and she'd been... What was her name again? Ai doesn't quite remember.
But it's not like it matters now. ]
Yes. [ The smile comes to her lips just as easily as the lie does. ] If it's you, then I don't have to be worried.
That's right. I'm here to make your wish come true, after all.
[ he draws closer - stops a few inches away from her face, hesitation clear in his eyes.
so he closes those little traitors, smiling and murmuring: ]
Just try to relax, Master. And... Tell me if you need me to stop.
[ and then he embraces her, gently - his larger arms wrapped around her, hands coming to rest on her back. this close, his wings are overwhelming, bright and beautiful and oh-so-delicate; this close, she can smell the scent of him, of royalty and merrymaking and a tavern's firelight. ]
[ She's supposed to relax? Like she can't see it on his face that he'd rather be doing anything else? Her lips part, like she wants to say something or maybe even to protest but before she can, his arms are around her and even though his touch is so, so gentle, all the air suddenly comes rushing out of her lungs like she's just been punched in the gut.
She has no idea when the last time someone held her was. It must have been years ago. Did that boy ever hold her while they were playing as adults or had he touched her no more than necessary and left her feeling cold afterwards? She doesn't know.
Oberon's hands are so warm. She didn't even realize she'd been so cold until they'd settled on her back and all of a sudden, her throat feels tight. Is she really so miserably alone that this is all it takes to unravel her?
Her hands bunch into fists in his robes, clutching at him for support. She feels alarmingly unsteady all of a sudden. ]
Oberon... [ The tremble in her voice isn't even close to being a lie. ] I don't know what to do.
[ Neither is that note of a plea. She'd thought that she did, but now she's not so sure. ]
[ it's not a lie. it's not a lie. his hands stroke at her back, and he whispers without thinking- ]
It'll be okay. [ a moment's horrid silence. his fingers tighten at her shoulder. ] Shhh. It's okay to be nervous. Just let me guide you, okay?
[ he's already moving her, laying the both of them down in a single easy motion. he's stronger than he looks - much stronger, even. from his new position atop her, he presses his cheek to hers, lets her feel his presence, tries to reach out and connect her magic circuits to his own make-believe existence. ]
[ He smells like summer. Breathing in that scent fills her head with flowers and buttery sunlight and makes her think of what he'd said before - the flowing of air, the pathways blood cuts through her body. Something stirs. She doesn't know if it's magic or circuits or whatever else but that stirring clicks like a key trying to find a lock.
Her fingers are still clutching at his robes and a warm little shudder goes through her. With the weight of Oberon's body pressed into her own, she feels suddenly and sharply present in her own self in a way she hasn't in a long, long time. Maybe that makes her a little pathetic but she's known that for a long, long time as well. ]
I don't know what it is, but... I can feel it.
[ Her voice is lower, breathier than she means it to be. ]
[ his voice is gentle, his actions slow. it's not going to be okay - it can't be okay, not anymore. but at the very least, he can make it not completely miserable. his hand strokes at her back; slowly, even as he focuses on aligning her circuits with his origin, he explores and finds what little touches draw a reaction from her.
he's shockingly kind, really. if only it could last. ]
[ Her breath comes out in shallow little puffs of air. Something is cracking open — no, stretching open and while it doesn't hurt, it's unfamiliar enough that she doesn't know what to do with it. So she tries to focus on his hands instead. That much she knows — even if it's been so long, she at least knows how it feels to have someone's hands on her body.
Everywhere feels so oversensitive. She doesn't know if it's just the fact that it's been so long since anyone touched her anywhere or if it's that combined with whatever else is thrumming in her blood, but every time his hands skim over bare skin, she shudders again. There's goosebumps all up and down her arms and even though he's being so gentle, it's still not good enough.
When his hand grazes her stomach she makes a thin, needy noise that even she's embarrassed by. She's a grown woman, isn't she? Pull it together, Ai. ]
Of course it is. What would I gain from lying to you?
[ he's not "cleaning the rust" off her circuits. with each tiny step, he's exploring the closed pathways, feeling out just how wide they can go. he's finding out just how far he can go, how far she can come as a mage-
with a bit of help, of course. ]
You're doing so well. [ his voice is gentle. there's a smile on his face, even as he delivers half-lies and sincerity for her. and the whole while, his eyes remain closed. ] Don't worry, Master. You're a natural.
[ the hand at her stomach pauses - dwells a bit longer, traces idle circles with perfect, slender fingers. ]
[ Ai chokes on a breath that sharpens into a whine. That stretch-stretch-stretch sensation is back and even worse than before. She remembers, suddenly and sharply, one of her early dance lessons with B-Komachi where the instructor had told them all how they needed to be flexible and she'd picked out Ai to demonstrate stretches to try because she was the stiffest and she'd needed the most practice and she'd had Ai do some horrible contortion that involved spreading her legs and going belly down on the floor and when Ai couldn't make it all the way, she had pressed down on Ai's back and pushed and she had been suddenly, terrifyingly aware of the limits of her own body and her muscles had protested but they had stretched and stretched even as she panicked and said waitwaitwait and nobody had listened and she had managed it but she'd been so scared that her body was going to buckle and give and she realizes that same plea is coming out of her mouth now waitwaitwait please she can't go that far it doesn't hurt but wait please it's too much it's
spark. flare. it's impossible to tell how many there are. there's too many. there's too few. how many should there be? five, ten, a hundred, one thousand? as many as you want, as many as you need, she lies until things come true so why shouldn't it be the same for this as well?
her hands curl into fists at his back and her voice comes out in a cry. ]
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no subject
Something stirs in her head at that. Not guilt, though she suspects that it should be, but something else. Recognition, maybe. Yes, that's right — back when she'd still been just a brat playing at being an idol and Saitou had sent her to Lala Lie to straighten out her act. The workshop's halfhearted little production for all its fledgling talents had been A Midsummer Night's Dream and she and that boy had played two of its most important characters. He'd been Oberon and she'd been... What was her name again? Ai doesn't quite remember.
But it's not like it matters now. ]
Yes. [ The smile comes to her lips just as easily as the lie does. ] If it's you, then I don't have to be worried.
no subject
[ he draws closer - stops a few inches away from her face, hesitation clear in his eyes.
so he closes those little traitors, smiling and murmuring: ]
Just try to relax, Master. And... Tell me if you need me to stop.
[ and then he embraces her, gently - his larger arms wrapped around her, hands coming to rest on her back. this close, his wings are overwhelming, bright and beautiful and oh-so-delicate; this close, she can smell the scent of him, of royalty and merrymaking and a tavern's firelight. ]
no subject
She has no idea when the last time someone held her was. It must have been years ago. Did that boy ever hold her while they were playing as adults or had he touched her no more than necessary and left her feeling cold afterwards? She doesn't know.
Oberon's hands are so warm. She didn't even realize she'd been so cold until they'd settled on her back and all of a sudden, her throat feels tight. Is she really so miserably alone that this is all it takes to unravel her?
Her hands bunch into fists in his robes, clutching at him for support. She feels alarmingly unsteady all of a sudden. ]
Oberon... [ The tremble in her voice isn't even close to being a lie. ] I don't know what to do.
[ Neither is that note of a plea. She'd thought that she did, but now she's not so sure. ]
no subject
It'll be okay. [ a moment's horrid silence. his fingers tighten at her shoulder. ] Shhh. It's okay to be nervous. Just let me guide you, okay?
[ he's already moving her, laying the both of them down in a single easy motion. he's stronger than he looks - much stronger, even. from his new position atop her, he presses his cheek to hers, lets her feel his presence, tries to reach out and connect her magic circuits to his own make-believe existence. ]
no subject
Her fingers are still clutching at his robes and a warm little shudder goes through her. With the weight of Oberon's body pressed into her own, she feels suddenly and sharply present in her own self in a way she hasn't in a long, long time. Maybe that makes her a little pathetic but she's known that for a long, long time as well. ]
I don't know what it is, but... I can feel it.
[ Her voice is lower, breathier than she means it to be. ]
Just like before.
no subject
[ his voice is gentle, his actions slow. it's not going to be okay - it can't be okay, not anymore. but at the very least, he can make it not completely miserable. his hand strokes at her back; slowly, even as he focuses on aligning her circuits with his origin, he explores and finds what little touches draw a reaction from her.
he's shockingly kind, really. if only it could last. ]
no subject
Everywhere feels so oversensitive. She doesn't know if it's just the fact that it's been so long since anyone touched her anywhere or if it's that combined with whatever else is thrumming in her blood, but every time his hands skim over bare skin, she shudders again. There's goosebumps all up and down her arms and even though he's being so gentle, it's still not good enough.
When his hand grazes her stomach she makes a thin, needy noise that even she's embarrassed by. She's a grown woman, isn't she? Pull it together, Ai. ]
Th—then... it really is working?
no subject
[ he's not "cleaning the rust" off her circuits. with each tiny step, he's exploring the closed pathways, feeling out just how wide they can go. he's finding out just how far he can go, how far she can come as a mage-
with a bit of help, of course. ]
You're doing so well. [ his voice is gentle. there's a smile on his face, even as he delivers half-lies and sincerity for her. and the whole while, his eyes remain closed. ] Don't worry, Master. You're a natural.
[ the hand at her stomach pauses - dwells a bit longer, traces idle circles with perfect, slender fingers. ]
no subject
spark. flare. it's impossible to tell how many there are. there's too many. there's too few. how many should there be? five, ten, a hundred, one thousand? as many as you want, as many as you need, she lies until things come true so why shouldn't it be the same for this as well?
her hands curl into fists at his back and her voice comes out in a cry. ]
Wait— Oberon, wait—! I can't, I can't, I'm not—