[ 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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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—