flamebrand | [ CLOSED TO NOBURDEN. ]

[ She's taking him so well, and the thought of being inside of her soon makes blood rush straight to his cock. Still, he manages not to become completely incoherent, and tests to see if she's ready to take a third digit next to the two already-slick fingers working her.

Prince makes him lower his gaze for a moment－ he hasn't been one in ages, not even as a child－ but in Jill's voice, it sounds affectionate instead of taunting. ]

It doesn't matter, how the rest see me. As long as you do.

[ He has reclaimed himself, and put himself in Jill's hands. That's all that will ever matter to him. ]

My love, and my lady. [ He turns his face towards her palm, and kisses along her lifeline. ] How ready do you feel for me?

[Three fingers is more than she's used to, but he's worked her so well that her body accommodates him with little protest. Jill breathes out with a smile, enjoying the pressure, the tension. She can feel her heart beat speed up. Three fingers, then him. She's far more excited than she is intimidated.]

Like I might pull your hair out if you keep me waiting a moment more.

[A playful tease--he's a gentleman, making sure nothing will hurt. Her protector in all things, even from himself.]

[ Please, Jill, don't make him laugh when he's trying to be sexy (?). He has to stop his hand from doing something involuntary and painful where his fingers are hilted inside of her, and he raises a brow in mock-chiding. ]

You'd love me less if I were bald, [ he says, to the tune of "admit it, you would". Equally as playful, even as he takes care to make Jill ride out the last of his prep, because the last thing he wants is for any part of this ordeal to be uncomfortable for her. This is, ostensibly, his real first time being in bed with someone he's proclaimed his love to, and he won't ruin it due to impatience. ]

[Oh, but she loves his laughter. She's not sure if it's typical to laugh in bed as much as they do, whether it now be fucking or simply touching and talking, but she does know it feels good.]

Clive.

[An attempt to sound stern is lost because laughing jostles her just enough to create friction, and she moans. Or groans.]

Certainly, we could find you a wig...

[Lord Elwin didn't live long enough to be able to tell if he would bald at any point. Hmm.]

[ Karma would have made Elwin go bald............ which is obviously not a thing that Clive thinks, because he's still of the opinion that his father was great (someone help Clive's sense of self-respect, tbh). Clive is also not thinking about Elwin because he's currently very busy trying to make Jill feel good, which is kind of a crapshoot at this point.

The upside is that no one makes him smile as much as Jill does. He takes the time to lean over and kiss her stomach, grinning against her skin. ]

Alright, alright, you've convinced me.

[ Fingers pull out, and travel down to his eager cock. He strokes himself once in anticipation, breathing hotly against Jill's navel. ] No more waiting.

[One day she'll get used to the tickle of his beard on her softer areas. Today is not this day. Jill squirms, laughing still, even as she then eyes him hungrily. She never would have thought she could look upon a man bent over her, stroking himself, and feel so much desire.]

No more waiting. Come home.

[If it's not too bold to say. He's her home.]

[ Home does something to him that makes his cock, already slick with pre, twitch even more in interest. Clive feels stupid with it, lust and love and everything else that he can't possibly start to list, because Jill is well and truly his everything.

He rocks into the cradle of her legs, parting them just another inch to let him slide closer to her, hips bracketed by her thighs. He slots himself against her, slicking his arousal over her wetness with a low, shuddering sigh, and resists the urge to shove forward and claim her like some sort of untamed animal.

Instead, the initial push is slow. Careful, but with intent. He concentrates on how she feels, hot and tight and perfect, and tries not to get overwhelmed too quickly; he would actually die if he came prematurely tonight.

On the tail end of a moan, he ventures: ] Alright?

[Where does she look? That handsome face? Where their bodies join? Jill feels dizzy with desire and excitement and when he presses oh so slowly into her she moans louder than she means to. Hot, hard, and so perfect. He's meant to be inside her.

Even if there's an adjustment--she's glad he's been careful with her, because even horny out of her mind, he's bigger than she is in every way.]

... alright. [It takes her a moment to remember to speak, to breathe.] Slowly, Clive.

[Not that he'll do anything but. A reminder for herself, too. Her hips give a small, experimental roll, and that too has her biting back a moan.]

[ Slowly. Clive can do slowly. He's been waiting for years to do this, and he can wait a few seconds more, though they feel agonizing for how much he wants Jill, how much he wants to be in the deepest part of her, connected and whole.

His eyes flick down to where they meet, and he breathes a hiss through his teeth at the sight of it. ]

Fuck. [ A low murmur, mostly to himself. ] God, you're perfect.

[ He's overwhelmed, and he hasn't even started moving. Nudging another sliver further, he nuzzles against Jill's forehead and leaves a light kiss along her lips, making sure that he keeps her grounded in his affection. ] I love you, Jill.

I love you, too. My Clive.

[She pulls him down for another kiss, a deeper one, and slides a hand down his side. At his hip, she pants her palm, fingers pressing into his skin. Encouraging to move a little, with her, as she gives a slow rock of her hips. Inviting him in deeper.]

You feel too good to be true. You've always been.

[ He sways to the rhythm of that encouragement, just enough for his hips to drawn back an inch and to push forward two inches, giving her more with each gentle rock. It feels far too good around his already-oversensitive cock, but he manages to meet Jill's kiss and murmur, a little stupid: ]

―I should hope I feel true. I feel true enough.

[ Translation: "can you feel how fucking hard I am inside you???" Again, he feels drunk with it, the entirety of him fixated on Jill and how she makes him feel. The rest of the world has vanished, at this point. ]

[Jill can interpret his meaning. Even when under him, a puddle that could melt right into the thin mattress beneath them, she understands.]

Impossibly. Like marble.

[And he feels as hot as flame around her, inside her. Jill whimpers with pleasure as she wraps her legs around his hips, ready for more, intoxicated with the thought of sheathing him entirely.]

[ Again, he tries not to laugh at the denotation of 'marble', to middling results. ]

Ah, [ he breathes. ] That can't be comfortable.

[ Joking, of course. He knows Jill feels as good as he does, slotted as perfectly as they are, fitting together as if they were born to nest against each other (they were, if he has any say in the matter). A low, shuddering breath, and Clive finally pushes enough so that he's completely inside her, hips bumping and flush as they can be, and the feel of her wrapped around the entirety of him is enough to make Clive feel sentimental about it.

Deep. He's engulfed in her, and his eyes flutter closed for a moment, overcome by how much he's wanted this. How much he needed Jill. ]

There. [ Resting there for a moment, just savoring the feel of her. ] Exactly where I need to be.

[Jill's decided laughter in their bed is absolutely necessary. She breathes out a laugh, too, and the air leaving her lungs somehow seems to allow him in a fraction deeper. When she feels Clive settle, she's surprised they've made it there. Finally. She's stunned, briefly, and then laughs again.]

Oh, Clive. [He's filled her completely, and she thinks if he takes a deep breath, that movement alone would be enough to make her come. Jill slips her arms around him as best she could, wanting more of his weight on top of her, wanting to hold and kiss him.]

You feel so good. I could keep you between my legs forever.

[ He'd joked about discomfort, but Clive still minds his size and her tightness, and keeps himself from pulling Jill's hips up off of the bed to rut into her, desperate and needy. He can hold, and he can wait, and he can breathe. For the first time, he finally inhabits himself as a human and a man with wants and needs: with Jill, he finally feels himself again. Clive Rosfield, not the Dominant of Ifrit or the vessel of God or whatever other title the world sees fit to bestow.

A little stupid with love and lust and affection, he tries calling Jill "Jill Rosfield" in the privacy of his head. It makes him even harder inside her, if that were at all possible. ]

Would that I could indulge that. [ His voice is gravel, slightly strained, but happily. There's just the slightest shift of his hips where they're pressed against Jill's, testing the waters to see if she'd be alright with just the barest suggestion of movement. In, out. Mostly in. ] I'd keep you in my bed and stay inside you until the rest of time.

[ Is that too much? Who cares. He leans forward, carefully applying more weight and pressure, and presses a brief, fond kiss along her smiling lips. ]

Don't be too endearing, [ is another laugh to add to their ever-growing pile. ] I may finish too early.

[That slight shift makes her moan, eyes half-lidded as she feels his cock snug against her walls. Fingers press to his hip, to his back, smoothing over the dips and lines of muscle. The thought of how they must tense and flex while fucking her has her fighting the desire to beg for it. In due time.]

Mmm, I wouldn't be upset. You could dote on me until you're ready to be inside me again.

[Come on, Mythos. The refractory period has to be lessened, surely.]

I'm afraid I won't be able to stop thinking about this. You've ruined me.

[ Clive really deserves a lightning-quick refractory period to make up for all the cosmic horrors happening under his skin, and thus, we will grant them to him. Actually, Jill deserves the lightning-quick refractory period after dealing with Clive's bullshit for five entire years.

That said: all Clive wants to do is give Jill what she deserves. Which is this, their mutual pleasure, and the push and pull of their bodies. So Clive starts a rhythm, slow and gentle to start, eyelids fluttering at the mind-numbing fullness of just feeling Jill clench around him. He thinks he could fucking melt. ]

Not yet.

[ Teasing, about the ruining bit. He hasn't even started. ] Come on, Jill. We've yet to destroy each other fully.

[ Because it'll be mutual, them being a complete mess. They're barely started to make friction, and Clive can already feel his heart hammering a mile a minute. Ifrit is sitting just under his skin, venting heat and aether, calling for Shiva. ]

[Jill thinks she could die right in this moment and be content with her final moments. Clive barely moves and she moans, and moans louder still when he doesn't stop. Distantly, there's a sting, some pain, but it's so quickly replaced by absolute pleasure that she hardly notices. Belly to belly, she pulls him down for another kiss.

Her hips strain upwards to meet his, and she moans again, the volume getting dangerously close to something that would be heard well outside the room and the half-standing walls. Generally, Jill is good about keeping quiet.

Not so much when the love of her life is balls deep.]

[ A full-bodied tremor, as Jill strains and moans for him, and Clive surges down to kiss those sounds out of her mouth, to taste her and feel her shake against his lips. The world outside of his quarters has ceased to hold any of his attention, and so the gesture has nothing to do with quelling her everything to do with wanting to receive her in whatever way he can.

If their collective huffing and panting doesn't give them away, the rattle of Clive's headboard against the cobbled-together wall and crates will. Bedsprings creak, and Clive distributes his weight onto his knees for a harder thrust inwards, making the mattress shift under him, riding both of their bodies up along the sheets. ]

Jill, [ he moans alongside her, one hand gripping the top of his headboard to keep himself from holding her hard enough to bruise. ] Relax for me, love.

[ Another long, deliberate drag of his hips back, followed by a quick forward push. God, she feels absolutely perfect. ]

[Once time and opportunity afford them: walls, and a new bed. Were it just hands and mouths at work Jill may pay more attention to how loud they're being, but she can barely remember to breathe. She's never felt so warm without overheating, or so comfortably pressed down into a bed.

Every movement gets a moan or a whimper, but there's smile on her face when he grabs the headboard. Quite the view, that. Both hands slide up his body and over his chest. She thinks of how it might look were she on top of him, seated, able to look down upon his body as she rides him.

He says relax, and it takes her brain a full two seconds to process what that means. Her smile is goofy as she breathes out, only to follow with a sharp intake.

Oh, she likes that push of speed.]

If I--relax any more, you'll need a mop and bucket.

[ He feels delirious with affection, but has enough presence of mind to not make some cheesy joke about Shiva and ice and melting. Keep it sexy, Rosfield. Whether or not he's succeeding is debatable, though, given the spread of his own smile on his face, only slightly strained due to doing his level best to keep himself regulated. ]

The most beautiful puddle I've ever seen.

[ Okay, maybe he's not the best at being sexy. He'll work on it. A breath in and out, and he starts to move in earnest, keeping that strong handhold above so he has the freedom to snap his hips with faster, less careful movement, knees hitting thighs, waist to waist. Deep, deeper, until he breaks the rhythm with intermittent shallow thrusts, getting her acclimated to the faster pace before he changes that up, too.

Seeing what Jill likes, seeing what she responds to. Funny, that he's the one filling her but also feels so full in return, like his aether and love might spill and burn Jill if he's not careful. ]

[Clive could yawn and Jill would find it sexy. Everything about him is. She may find some things less sexy now that they'll share this room, or one day when they might have a home together, but the honeymoon stage has been with her since the moment they met.

He fucks her, makes love to her, and her back arches and hips lift to meet him. She's at his mercy, and happily so. The sounds she makes range from mewling to gasps of pleasure to her lips pressed tightly together to keep from calling out his name too loudly--though they part so she can pant.]

Oh, Clive. I'm so close...

[What was that about him finishing early? She digs her fingers into his sides, his back, lost in him.]

[ A kiss against those tightly-knitted lips, even though they should be careful about noise. Clive still pushes into her, keeping a steady pace now that he can feel that Jill is close, wanting to do nothing but meet her at the edge of that cliff. ]

Let me hear you, [ he murmurs, and it's less a tease and a request; he could listen to Jill's sweet sounds until the rest of time. ] I'm close too, Jill.

[ The bed strains under their weight, and Clive barely cares. Skin on skin, chest to chest, he also loses himself in the woman he loves more than anything, in the reality that they're joined as close as they can be. For a few blissful moments, all he can think about is her, the only thought in his love-addled head the shape of her name.

It manifests in the form of his thrusts getting more desperate, faster. ] Come for me, Jill. I'll be there with you.

[ This man is not practicing safe sex― he should pull out― but only after Jill hits her orgasm. ]

[When he's pressed so snugly to her, inside and out, Jill thinks this must be the best feeling imaginable. She's quickly proven wrong when her whole body begins to shake and tremble beneath him, orgasm coming on so strongly she couldn't stop herself if she tried. She moans against his mouth, his name, and a number of sounds she won't recall. There's no room for thinking, cunt pulsing so hard she holds onto him for dear life.

Safe sex is clearly not on her mind as she pulls on his hips, wanting him deeper, wanting to feel what it's like for him to come inside her. It's an animalistic part of her mind, instinct, and she presses her teeth into his shoulder as she continues to ride out the waves of ecstasy.

There will likely be a worried conversation with Tarja in the near future.]

[ Tarja is going to kill Clive.

Jill comes for him, snug and shaking and begging him to come alongside her with the breadth of her entire body, and fuck, how could he refuse? He only lasts for a few more shuddering breaths after she clutches at him and bids him for his release, and instead of doing the smart thing－ drawing his hips back, pulling out－ he spills inside, hips pressed close into the deepest part of her.

It feels perfect. She's perfect. Clive's brain is a gelatinous mess, fuckstruck and lovestruck, and all he can do is make soft noises against Jill's hair as he starts to bask in his afterglow, face nuzzled against Jill's with his lips seeking out her mouth.

A big, unruly, besotted hound. His weight settles, sweaty body laying over Jill like a warm blanket, enveloping her completely. ]

I love you, [ is the first thing that he can think of to say. ]

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