lusi | ( fjord's perma-catchall )

[ Understanding nothing of what he views as simply pretty accessories, he might work toward finding a similar gift for her in the future. It may be useless and cheap compared to her laurels, but he'll try to rustle up something beautiful.

With Aphrodite happily curdling on his lap, rocking down deliciously like a dream, he fastens a lovebite on the curve of a shoulder and indulges the instinct to mark her as his own, tusks kneading in between each hot kiss. His other hand skims back down to her ass where he drags her in to match a deep grind that is fast coming to be what he associates with her, fucking her where she will be feeling it for days afterwards. ]

You're beautiful, [ the praise comes as easily as breathing, growled against her smooth skin, ] the most beautiful woman I've ever seen ...

[The lovely thing about his love bites is that there will be no hiding them, the purple-red bruises with the obvious patterning of tusks pinching into skin - she's glad to keep them on display for all to see like the finest jewelry he could think to give her. (Although given the future tilt of colder weather that's coming, she might have to reconsider her aversion to clothes. Or just ask Fjord to keep her warm otherwise).

A long, low moan breathes past her lips as he marks her, drags her in and she picks up a slow, smooth rhythm. Hands slide from his neck to his chest, fingers curled just enough that he can feel the drag of her nails pricking into his skin, tracing gently over his scars and applying more pressure when she teases over his nipples.]

By the fates, [She murmurs, lifting up enough to feel the first of his ridges pull free from her, and sinking down again, riding him at a pace that's careful not to disrupt the pinch-pain of his teeth against her skin. Retrained, but just barely, given the hammering of her pulse that she can feel throbbing against his mouth. She tilts her head forward, moaning at the resulting tugging of his hand still fisted in her hair, then tugs again, purposefully.] Harder, love. You're not going to break me.

I know, [ he smiles into the curl of her neck, kisses dusting light and sweet in contrast to the occasional rasp of a tusk, ] I just like drawing it out with you, making you moan.

[ Fjord takes pity on both of them by reclining a little into the huge heap of cushions, just enough to brace his shoulders and heels to get the momentum required to fuck her the way she wants, ridges rippling against hot walls and a thick cockhead rubbing deep inside, over and over to the obscene slap of their bodies. It's perfect, the way he fits and how she takes him, he trusts every scrape down his chest to let him know if he's giving her too much too fast or not enough.

He groans and tips his head back, suffused with pleasure as he relaxes and drags her along with a fistful of hair for a crushing kiss. ]

I wonder ... how many times can I make you come tonight?

[She huffs a little, but there's no real teeth to it, especially once he lays back against the cushions, and she gasps with the change of pace. Eager and pleased to use his momentum to fuel her own movements. Leaning back, she rests her palms on his thighs behind her, stretching out long - a feast for his eyes, with her plump breasts and the markings he'd left on her shoulder already starting to bruise, and it's the perfect sort of angle to really make her toes curl. And she pumps her hips in time with him, lifting just before the peak of his thrust so she can plunge back down to meet him.

Breasts bounce in time with their movement and plush lips are parted around her gasps as she takes him again and again. She yelps a loud moan when he drags her in, hands moving from his chest to loop around his neck, kissing him in a way that threatens to swallow him whole, tongue plunging into his mouth then sucking on his tusks, his lips. Wet and messy and as obscene a sound as anything else in the room. Only breaking off to gasp a stuttered gasp of his name, as if to answer his inquiry. Not quite there for the second time but close and fates, those ridges are going to be the end of her, when they start fucking like this.

(And she's glad he's on the same page regarding her letting him leave tonight. There was no party to interrupt them this time and she planned on keeping him until morning.)]

[ She's beautiful. The way she leans back and stretches out as she rides him, breasts bouncing and thighs tensed, a flush all down her body: that experience will stay with him for a while, never mind the imagery, because he can feel every moment of it and it sets him on fire.

A growl meets the kiss as she plasters up against him to warm Fjord in ways he can't convey. He slips a hand between them and rubs the slippery nub of her clit to the pace of their fucking, kissing down her jaw so he can watch her reaction because it's absolutely his intention to drive her wild as many times as he can tonight, giving himself over to her pleasure. ]

[She doesn't think she'll ever get tired of those looks. The way Fjord's eyes change to slits from time to time, hungry and appreciative all at once. It makes her want to coax it out of him all the more often, and as much as he's determined to turning her into a boneless mess, she wants the same for him. To ride him and tease him with hands and mouth and breasts until he's spent and exhausted and relaxed in her arms.

He works faster though, and it doesn't take long like this for her to come for a second time, her pace and breath stuttering. Lips part and her brows pull together as the string pulling from her head to her toes and she curls her knees tighter into his sides, hips bucking a staggered, shallow motion and her whole body tensing then relaxing on top of him, her cheek pressed into his shoulder as she gasps and moans, louder than the first time.]

There you go, beautiful ...

[ He sighs along with her as she yells his name, coming hard on his cock and fingers so that Fjord's breath catches as her walls tighten around him. Hanging on by a thread to his own orgasm, he kisses her hair and lets her ride it out as much as she needs to with the slowed thrusting of his hips that keeps her in motion, never quite stopping even at a deep grind. His fingers smear around her hip, grasping hold to embrace her as she weakens in the afterglow. ]

You're doing so well for me, [ and then more cheekily, ] good girl.

[The continued movement is wonderful, even as it occasionally tips on overwhelming, and subtle whole-body tremors flicker over her even as she lays heavy and languid in his arms. He feels so good under her, arms wrapped around her and warming her from the inside out. (She suspects that he would feel good in near any position they could think of.)

The rumble of his voice in his chest rumbles under her, and she huffs a small laugh at the teasing, lifting her head up off his shoulder to nip at his ear, tugging the lobe between her teeth.]

I am good. [Her thighs flex and she rolls her hips, letting him stir inside of her – still a little oversensitive for riding him outright so soon, but even panting and blissed out, she can't help but be a little insatiable when it comes to him.] You must be aching, holding out so stubbornly. It makes me want to take my time with you. Make you ask for it.

[Another roll of her hips and she moans against his ear, getting off on it as much as she's trying to rile him up,] With my mouth, perhaps? I intend on tasting you before the night is over.

[ That nip on his ear has him gasping sharply, already pushing his limits on how much he can take when ridden by a beautiful woman. A goddess. It's strange, Aphrodite is certainly heavenly enough each time they have sex for Fjord to believe in her divinity but when he has her soaked with her own come around his cock, rocking atop him like she was made to be fucked, she feels contrarily so mortal. So real.

With the way she gamely keeps working him over, Fjord's stamina starts to rapidly dwindle. His eyes briefly screw shut with the imagery of her mouth stretched around his dick because how fucking obscene would that be? Gods above.

He hooks his hands under her thighs and lifts her just enough to find the room to thrust with renewed purpose, needing to take her. ]

Later, [ they have time (for now) ] first I want to fill you up until you're dripping.

[ Is he gets rougher he doesn't hold back this time, a snarl curling into place as he bucks into Aphrodite's tight heat and fucks her the way he wants to, like she's his and his alone. ]

[She's heard plenty of promises in the bedroom, declarations of love and lust and everything else in between, but the gravel in Fjord's voice combined with those words makes her blood run hot with desire. Enough that he most likely feels her muscles flutter tighter around him as he picks up with renewed vigor.

Hands holding her in place, her whole body seems to move in time with each of his thrusts, plunging into her like he might break her in two. If she was pushing on overstimulated before, she doesn't ask he stop or slow down, instead her nails dig into his skin, and there's a few beats of silence as she bites her lip, but it quickly ticks over into gasps of pleasure. She loves it, loves him, in the moments when all of the wrappings of propriety are gone, and she is loud against his ear. The tent filling with the sounds of their coupling, (her cries loud enough that it's probably a good thing they're on a relatively remote part of the beach.) And his name on her lips is like a prayer, over and over again.

The next time some comes it's with a scream, toes curling and whole body wracked with tremors. And Fjord might feel a punch of magical energy at the same moment, hot and heavy – aphrodisiac in nature, although they're well beyond that, but she's barely paying attention to her powers in the moment, overwhelmed and practically thrumming with pleasure.]

[ She's doing so well to keep up and he tells her so, murmurs praise with every breath that isn't stolen by gasps or moans. Aphrodite sets the new standard, clinging to him with his name rising to fill the tent, coming for a third time as if she might fall right out of his lap if he isn't holding on tight, which he does because he can't bear the thought of letting her go, driving into her with a snarl that rides the second rise of orgasm rushing through his hot blood. There's a throb of power that robs him of a breath but it isn't unpleasant, more like being startled into feeling too much for a split-second as he fucks her full of his seed and feels a deep need satisfied to see her so pleasured by it. By him. He may be addicted to the sensation of her body milking him dry.

He rolls them on the plush floor to cradle her in his arms, petting her weakened legs and raining kisses down on her beautifully slack expression. More attuned to her needs than his own, he eases out of her but stays close, still between her thighs that get all the stroking reassurance they need that it's okay to finally relax. ]

[There's a long stretch of quiet, the blissed-out silence of being thoroughly fucked. Pants and moans replaced with heavy breathing and the pound of both of their heartbeats in her ears. The shuffle of limbs and pillows and bodies as they settle in more comfortably. Her fingers brush through his hair, even as she lays still; and her breath catches when she feels him pull out - quite obscenely making his seed mixed with her own release leak out onto her thighs, they'll have to clean up later. Later. Because they have all of the time in the world now.

Tilting her chin up, she rests it on his chest, her eyes soft, pupils blown out, and fingers stroke through his beard. When she speaks again, it's softly, between caught breaths.] Have I mentioned recently how wonderful you are?

You might have said something in the last few minutes or so.

[ The chest she rests on shakes with a deep laugh and he presses kisses into her sweaty hair, smoothing his hands all around her body to help any aching muscles, all over hips and shoulders and a soft waist. Fjord drifts in the afterglow along with her, wondering how he got so lucky as to be favoured by a woman as wonderful as Aphrodite, who is sweet and funny and charming even aside from the power-keg of her nakedness.

His hand drifts up the back of her neck, cradling her there. ]

I wish I could take you back to Wildemount with me ...

[The rumble of a laugh in his chest makes her smile in response, enjoying the quiet closeness that followed an intense romp in the sheets. And hm, the sex was fantastic, but the low-key massage of his hands over her body is a different kind of indulgence, a soft sigh of pleasure escaping her when he works over anywhere tender - thighs especially. He's really an attentive lover, in all moments.]

Wildemount... [She echoes, recalling the bits and pieces he's shared about the world he comes from. A world that has disappearing swords and men with horns, and a man named Fjord.]

You should tell me more about it. The place you come from.

[ Whenever he kneads gently over her thighs she seems to relax the most, so one hand keeps that up as he plays with her hair. It's a new kind of intimacy, one he hasn't experienced before with Molly (being friends means senseless chatter comes all the time) and Avantika (purely in it for the sex, he left her captain's cabin every night), or even the scant (awful) sexual experiences when he was young.

It's peaceful to lie down with a beautiful woman and want to take her home; want to see her again and feel seen in return.

He keeps forgetting she's a god. ]

Wildemount is a continent on Exandria, the world I'm from. It's a little rougher than Tal'dorei to the west but it ... has its charms. I was born on the Menagerie Coast, in Port Damali, where it's so hot you can taste the spices in the air and there are seagulls screaming by day over the sprawling market stalls. The taverns ring with music at night all down the docklands for miles on end.

[ Tickling her neck with his fingers, he nudges his nose by her forehead. ]

It's very beautiful.

[The tickle earns a small wriggle, a shiver down her spine and she nuzzles her cheek to his chin, eyes closed to imagine the world he was describing.]

It sounds lovely, and what an evocative name - Menagerie Coast.

[Voice full of wonder. The image she's conjuring up in her head is likely a lot more decadent and exotic than what might be reality. A beautiful coast and lively people. She tries to picture Fjord among the setting she made up, and sits up a little, arms on his chest to look down at his face.]

Have you always been drawn to the water? [First the leviathan, and he mentioned an oath of the open sea earlier.] I, too, was born of the sea. Although... not so traditionally. "Formed" might be a better word.

[ Whatever she imagines is likely very close to the mark, even if Fjord is prettying up the picture a little from nostalgia and homesickness. ]

I remember you said that, being born from the sea or ... "formed", ah. That sounds appropriately more deity-like.

[ He winds a strand of her hair around his finger and gives a playful tug, enjoying the view of Aphrodite poured on top of him.

His lips twitch down a little as he wars with how much to admit, not wanting to ruin the mood but neither feeling like lying is necessary. ]

I lived in the Driftwood Asylum for my upbringing, it was an orphanage inland of the port. I didn't see the ocean until I left at fifteen, and when I looked at it my world seemed to be infinitely larger than I had ever dreamed. You feel insignificant before that blue horizon but it's ... comforting.

My Oath of the Open Sea is one to roam and explore.

Ah, then that's something we have in common. Neither of us know our parents.

[Her mouth tugs into a sympathetic smile. Well. Hers don't exist at all. Details.

Even as the topic turns more serious, she likes listening to him talk, watching how his expression shifts and changes with his mood. Imagining what his life must be like. It's funny, for all of her experiences in her immortal life, there was still so much beyond her scope. Living on the island made that more obvious than ever.

A hand lifts and smooths back stray hair back from his face.]

It sounds romantic - following wherever your heart takes you. [A beat.] Although I'm sure you weren't expecting to wind up here.

[ A wry look softens as she mentions a lack of parents. ]

The Wildmother is part of the oceans, maybe back in Wildemount she would pass for your mother.

[ He gives a wink, settling back to stroke her hair off her face. Without her laurels she looks much more mortal (as if being thoroughly debauched didn't do the trick). ]

I never expected this, no, but I'm glad I'm here. With you.

[ He cocks his head curiously. ]

Your turn to talk about yourself.

[Her mother. Hm. It's not like she hasn't considered what it would be like to have parents, although given the experiences of her fellow gods, familial ties are a little bit messy. Though it is interesting to consider what it would be like to be part of a different sort of parthenon. Would she have devotees like Fjord if she was a goddess of Wildemount instead?

The topic turns to her and she smiles,]

You're so polite. I've met men who could talk about themselves for hours, if a pretty woman was willing to listen.

[She teases affectionately, then hums thoughtfully.]

The world I am from is called Earth, but I reside on Mount Olympus. Along with the other Olympian gods, we're quite the cozy bunch, when we're not fighting over this or that.

Sounds like a nice family.

[ Mount Olympus comes off as just the sort of place a bunch of deities would live. As he strokes back her hair, he gives a lock a little tug around his finger. ]

Where do you go for fun? Being a god must have some responsibilities, but where does Ditey go to unwind?

[ Is that a kiss on her cheek? Oop. ]

Anywhere I please. But my favorite is Korinthos. It’s a lovely city by the sea. With a few temples to yours truly.

[She’s unbiased, surely. He tugs on her hair and she tilts her head, smiling, A hand catches his wrist and pulls it closer, where she can press a kiss to the palm of his hand, before nibbling a line up to his fingertips, watching him through her lashes.]

A handsome traveler like yourself could lose a lot of coin there. [Lips wrap lightly around his thumb and sucks lightly before letting it slip out with a soft pop. She grins up at him.] But you wouldn’t leave wanting.

[ Laughter comes low in his chest, charmed by her kisses. He runs his thumb along her lips, just because he can and she's beautiful to look at. ]

I've been known to make a few impulse purchases. [ Why does he has a feeling he knows what's in those temples ... ] What exactly would I be paying for, in order to worship you there?

Courtesans, dear. [Did he guess prostitutes? Because it's definitely prostitutes.] They're treated well there. And make the city quite rich with travelers in the meantime.

[He runs his thumb over her lip and she strokes the side of his face. Touching just for the sale of touching. She enjoys the soft back and forth between them in the interim. The quiet teasing that they didnt get to enjoy as much of in the bath.

Fingers tangle in his beard and give her own playful tug before she leans in to kiss him on the lips.]

But, were I there, I would keep you to myself. Selfish of me, I know.

Everybody needs to make a living, sure enough.

[ There are far worse ways, he's seen them.

He leans in at the tug to his beard and rubs it over her cheeks as he wraps her up in his arms for a cuddle. ]

"I'm sorry, ladies and gents," I'd say, "but I'm here to worship Aphrodite directly, not by proxy ..."

[ Worshipping that would include kisses interspersed between scratchy nuzzles. ]

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