[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. ]
[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.
[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.
[ 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?
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.
[She giggles when he wraps her up, broad arms as strong as they are gentle. She's seen both sides of him, enjoying his laugh in equal amounts to the growls that he gives in the heat of the moment.]
Such dedicated service. Of course I would save only the best blessings for you.
[Such blessings as the fingers that are running lightly down and up his sides, teeth catching on his lip before sucking the spot, soothing it better.
Abruptly,] I want to mark you. [Fingers touch lightly over a spot on his neck, high on the side.]
Sliding his hands up her body to cup her breasts, gently kneading and smoothing his large palms around her waist, unable to stop touching her, he tilts his head to the side. Tries not to shiver when her fingers trail there. ]
[Tucking her hair back, she noses under his chin, wrinkling her nose and laughing a little at the tickle of his beard, before replacing her fingers with her mouth. Right over where she can feel his pulse, but high enough that she hopes it will show, even when he's fully armored. She takes her time there, kissing and teasing with her lips and teeth and sucking at the skin there.
She can already feel his heartbeat just fine, given her sensitivity to those sorts of things, but she enjoys feeling the beat of his pulse under her lips, and while she doesn't have tusks like he does, she makes up for it in ardor. Sucking hard, she moans against his skin, fingers dipping between them to tease over his chest, thumbing over the scars there and lingering on his nipples, trying to find all of the places that make him shiver and groan.]
[ A pulse of arousal throbs through his aching body, her lips and teeth drawing out a hiss as Aphrodite marks him up with a lovebite that will darken to a blotchy green in time. Coupled with the way she touches him he groans, laughing breathlessly, and sweeps his hands up her thighs to slip one between, gently stroking over her clit to get her back for working him up again.
With his head tipped back on the pillows, he hums and arches into everywhere they touch. ]
[She sing songs, then catches the wrist of the hand between her thighs, redirecting it back to her thighs and hips. And she lifts her head to nip at his ear.]
It's my turn, dear.
[Said in a husky voice before she dips lower again, sucking another spot low on his neck, while shifting her body back until her knees are on the pillows between his legs, her body still lounged over him and she sits up to let her hands drift over his chest. Tracing over the lines of his muscles and her gaze roves over him, almost reverently.]
[ He hums at the compliment, obediently skimming caresses over her hips as he lets her play. Her hands look pretty against his broad chest, scars littering the dark hairs from blades and burns, all healed a lighter green. The scar between his pecs is the largest, the tallest too, slim like a blade went through. ]
[Her mouth quirks up in a smile, and she enjoys touching him. The contrast of her small hands against his skin, and how she can feel the powerful muscles underneath. She wonders what he must look like in battle. Brave and fierce, she thinks.
Her fingers linger on that scar in the center of his chest, tracing it from top to bottom. Expression flickers into something more thoughtful, and she looks up at him.]
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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.
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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. ]
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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.]
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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. ]
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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?
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[ 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 ...
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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[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.
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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.
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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.
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[ 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. ]
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[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.
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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?
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[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.
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[ 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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Such dedicated service. Of course I would save only the best blessings for you.
[Such blessings as the fingers that are running lightly down and up his sides, teeth catching on his lip before sucking the spot, soothing it better.
Abruptly,] I want to mark you. [Fingers touch lightly over a spot on his neck, high on the side.]
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Oh?
[ And forceful. He likes that about her too.
Sliding his hands up her body to cup her breasts, gently kneading and smoothing his large palms around her waist, unable to stop touching her, he tilts his head to the side. Tries not to shiver when her fingers trail there. ]
Mark me, sweetheart. I'm all yours.
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She can already feel his heartbeat just fine, given her sensitivity to those sorts of things, but she enjoys feeling the beat of his pulse under her lips, and while she doesn't have tusks like he does, she makes up for it in ardor. Sucking hard, she moans against his skin, fingers dipping between them to tease over his chest, thumbing over the scars there and lingering on his nipples, trying to find all of the places that make him shiver and groan.]
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With his head tipped back on the pillows, he hums and arches into everywhere they touch. ]
You're trying to kill me, aren't you ...
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[She sing songs, then catches the wrist of the hand between her thighs, redirecting it back to her thighs and hips. And she lifts her head to nip at his ear.]
It's my turn, dear.
[Said in a husky voice before she dips lower again, sucking another spot low on his neck, while shifting her body back until her knees are on the pillows between his legs, her body still lounged over him and she sits up to let her hands drift over his chest. Tracing over the lines of his muscles and her gaze roves over him, almost reverently.]
You're beautiful.
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High praise coming from the Goddess of Beauty.
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Her fingers linger on that scar in the center of his chest, tracing it from top to bottom. Expression flickers into something more thoughtful, and she looks up at him.]
What happened here?
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