transgressings | inbox for duplicity;

[ It's almost as she imagined, her decisively seated on him with all of it shrouded by the fullness of her skirts, keeping their act hidden from even their eyes — but she certainly feels it, her arousal, her previous release allowing her to accommodate him easily and enabling her to move on him soon after that.

But she'll go purposefully slow, thighs tensing and relaxing at his hips as she begins that slow rocking, a scant number of inches slipping out of her before she grinds again, down to the very hilt. ]

Mmm. [ She parts her lips, lets her tongue tease against his, playful flicks and curves. He's trembling beneath her, almost as if he's fighting to hold back; in a sense, so is she, the urge to ride him hard flickering at the edge of her judgment. ] You would be permitted to fuck me like that again.

[His head of silver falls with a hiss, turns slightly to capture her tongue with his lips, suckles on it. Her moving around him, the motion first in her legs, then her hips, and then inside, gets him to groan and Dante can almost find a subtle rhythm to it like the pace of a shore. Instead of soothing, it only ignites the tension inside him, a livewire that threatens to connect at any moment. The idea of quick release seems very tempting, but now that he has her there, he wants to keep her longer.

The fingers threaded through her hair stroke it down, and he takes a deep, heartfelt breath as she speaks. Temptress. ] Almost at my limit, gorgeous. Best save that for next time.

[ Her own desire is temporarily eased, for the moment, needing more time to build between the release he'd given her with fingers and mouth and the one she knows will follow as the motions of her riding him increase, spurring her on towards chasing more of that eventual ecstasy.

She smiles against his lips, nips at them, lets her mouth trail down along the underside of his jaw to tease and bite further along the column of his throat. ]

Next time, then. [ She squeezes around his cock, just to emphasize her own willingness in the matter, and soothes over the series of disappearing marks she's left with a slow drag of her tongue, hips continuing their harder grind. ]

[The hand going through her long hair stops and comes back to the back of her neck. He likes her there, against his pulse, as if he wasn’t delivering one of the most fragile places a half-human body possesses. She squeezes around him and rotund heat of her makes his hips tense, and he stops in his tracks before the urge to piston into her again overwhelms him.

He chuckles, open grin at the challenge. He wants to last a little longer - maybe see her come this time - and he’s doing his best to reach that goal, but he doesn’t mind the danger and he feels that neither does Vanessa. He holds onto the idea that they’ll have other opportunities to indulge, explore what makes them tick. The hand on her thigh slides to her hip and squeezes in return, getting a better grasp of the rhythm she’s setting, moving his hips minutely along.]

[ The want she has for him endures, increases, when he shudders beneath her, as if it takes every ounce of strength he possesses not to take her hard and fast; there will be time for that, as she's said. She prefers to think so rather than holding the assumption that this will be their last chance to explore one another.

But he starts to meet her in her movements, clutching at her hip beneath her dress, palm and fingers wide across her skin and driving her on to rock faster now, the pace at which she works herself on him reflected in the higher flush in her cheeks, her chest, the rougher sounds of her own breathing. It won't be long, really, and surely he can already feel those tremors starting underneath his hands, wordless signals of her impending climax. ]

[It's very difficult to rein himself in when she's this eager, rolling up and picking up the tempo assuredly. For all the magazines with raunchy magazines Dante makes a show of reading in public or in front of someone, it's the subtlety of her flush and the way she sounds that's really getting to him. He closes his eyes and feels her pulse around him, not just the vice around his cock but her presence, the force of her being. He lets out a sigh with her name into her ear, nuzzles her face to search for another kiss with a hum.]

Tell me when you're close. [Dante all but gasps out, trying not to focus so much on the darkening of her lips and eyes to not come undone right away.]

[ It begins more subtly, this time, a spark that catches and ignites before building to a flickering flame, one that must be kindled and nurtured in order to grow further, and she tends to it with the increasing speed of her hips, a pace that quickens from an elegant undulation to something more raw, unabashed, louder moans leaving her lips while she essentially rides him — hard, because she knows he can take it.

If her hair wasn't already flowing loose around her shoulders it would be tumbling out of its pinnings by now given her momentum, the collision of skin on skin making it all too obvious what's transpiring under her skirts.

She braces her hands on his shoulders and gives voice to a cry against his lips, sharp and sudden, as the fire threatens to become an inferno that burns her from inside out. ] Come with me, please.

[He inhales sharply through his teeth, close to a hiss and the hand on her neck tightening, sliding up to the base of her skull even as she bucks on his lap. Dante's eyes open then, gaze on her face as his jaw tightens, hips snapping back into her, make the sound of their flesh louder, their voices stutter.

He opens his mouth to tell here he's there, he's about to reach the brink, how he wanted to do this again since the last time, how amazing she feels inside. But his voice crawls out with a groan, and he bites at her lower lip hard to stop from releasing anything else. He's been stretching this for too long, and his control is thinning and beginning to break.]

[ His touch is firm on her, but not restraining; she feels powerful in his grasp, tilting her head into the cradling of his palm, the clutch of his fingers against her skull, that movement of her hips nearly uncontrollable by this point as she gives herself over — to sensation, to him, all of it, finally relinquishing that last shred of her self-control with the sob that wrenches free of her throat, spilling past her lips.

He bites her hard enough to make the skin swell, but not break, not even as she shudders and comes apart around him, over top of him from her intimate perch, fingers digging into the strength of his shoulders while those waves of pleasure course through her, stem to stern. ]

[It's as though they're sharing this burst of sensation between each other. The tight grip she has on him, fingers, lips, hips, versus the wrap of his arms around her, coiling to feel every shiver through her body with his own. With lowered lids he reaches his release, brief seconds strangely feeling both helpless yet in complete control as he watches her come undone, only to follow with his own cry, a loud gasp, and a moan. Holding her tight, holding her deep.

They've been working at this for a while now, but yet it still startles him, how he feels like trembling steel, how everything seems to make a little more sense now, with her on his lap, his face buried against her neck.]

[ It isn't that their first entanglement hadn't been satisfying — she'd silently reveled in the lack of tension in her hips afterward, the marks their coupling had left behind, mostly covered up by the cut of her uniform — but this, driven by so much more choice and intention, leaves her feeling undeniably satisfied, limbs flooded with warmth when he leaves his heat within her.

She turns her face against his, cheek pressed into his temple, and lingers that way for a few long moments, unwilling to relinquish the hold he has on her and vice versa, and a small smile plays at the edges of her mouth while she breathes out a contented sigh. The question of how he feels is very nearly on her lips before she realizes it doesn't require asking; she already knows. ]

[The breath he takes is long, deep, and very tired. He could probably use a nap right now, although he knows that the need for it will dissipate in a couple of minutes. The air is filled with her scent, even with the effects of whatever got him stirring fade away, and Dante removes his hand from below her skirt to stroke his thumb around her cheek as he pulls back.

Sure, whatever aphrodisiac he had been under has been sated somehow, but Dante finds that there's very little difference now that his mind is clear. Perhaps just the click of a door opening to an already heated room.

He presses his lips softly to hers, and grins.] Not that I'm complaining, but this was not what I had in mind when I invited you over to talk.

I wasn't under any impression that it was.

[ But she's also very reluctant to extricate herself from his lap, comfortably seated atop him; she doesn't even move to ease off of him right away, savoring that connection for a few moments more. Still, the reality of the situation dictates that eventually, she will need to disconnect, even as his lips find hers lightly.

Her own hand rises to sweep fingers across his forehead, the side of his face, brushing lighter strands of hair back, and then she finally does move with a soft hiss of breath, experiencing the lack of him immediately as she shifts over to recline along his side, one leg still draped across the pair of his. ] Once again, you've proven to be more than I expected.

[There's a slight catch to his breath as she moves - the same way he had felt comfortably captured, there's a sense of release that while relieving, feels lacking. He catches himself from thinking of wanting it again and soon, settles back beside her as he runs his hand over the leg draped over him.

His lip twitches. Now that the fever's gone, he's facing the idea that she knows what he is. It's not something he lets out easily.]

I could say the same about you. I'll be honest, I imagined a lot of different scenarios for when you found out, but not this.

[ She'll need to move further yet, and soon, retrieve those remnants of her clothing she'd all but asked him to tear from her in their haste and heat, smooth the skirts of her dress in an attempt to hide its wrinkles, though there may be no masking some of the other, more lingering details of their entanglement until she's well within the walls of her own residence and can wash his scent from her skin.

In the immediate aftermath, she doesn't slip away to do any of that just yet, her hand shifting down to cover his as it rests against her leg. ]

You imagined rejection. [ It's not difficult to figure that out; the odds of that scenario entering his mind are likely, and point to a similar reaction occurring in the past. ]

[Rejection doesn't happen often because Dante's true nature isn't exactly revealed in a setting such as a short fumble in a bar or ending up at some person's house one night. That and...

well, there's no rejection when there's nothing initiated in the first place, right?

So he cants his head just enough to signify a "sorta".] It's as I told you. It's not something I usually do. You can guess why.

[He's finding that the brightness of her eyes has nothing to do with the haze of what he had been influenced by. He settles for brushing his other hand on her cheek thoughtfully before he takes a sigh.] But before we get into that, I'm starving. You wanna order some pizza?

And if I told you this wasn't something I normally do?

[ For various reasons, perhaps the most significant of them being that any act which lowers her mental defenses so readily could enable something else to slip in and take over; it's why she has to exercise caution, why being at the fort had offered her a means of freedom, diminished as she was in her abilities.

Even now, lying here beside him, she's attempting not to believe that the worst could still happen, but she might be anticipating something that will never come to pass.

He mentions his hunger and she realizes it's been some time since she's eaten anything, but his suggestion earns him a confused look. ] Is that a dish you prefer, where you're from?

[He nods, quietly.] Doesn't surprise me, considering what you told me.

[Maybe it's a good thing, that they met here instead of any other place. While with its disadvantages and inconveniences, they would have been left to their own problems if this place was just as susceptible to demonic power as both their homes were.

It'd be like standing in a room divided with unbreakable glass - the tension between them the only thing able to transverse through.

His lip twitches, deciding to discard the idea of luck itself being at play, in favor of the idea of sharing a pizza with her.] Why yeah it is. My favorite actually. It's portable, too, which makes it very easy to have it delivered. Wanna try some?

[ She has shared certain truths with him, in her time here, but there are further details she has not deigned to reveal, not sure if it will irrevocably change what they have already forged so unexpectedly, that reliance that she did not purposefully seek and has lingered with her all the same.

How can she even confess her greatest secret, about how she came to be here, when she doesn't completely understand what happened to begin with? One moment she'd believed herself to be departing her own, mortal existence; the next, she'd arrived in a city with strange sights and even stranger designs on its citizens.

There are some facts that are better left buried, at least for the moment. ]

And what would you suggest we do, while we wait for this... pizza to be delivered?

[The look he gives her for a second is heated.

But it's only there for a second, and Dante ducks his head with a sigh and smiles softly, brushes a stray hair away from her face instead when he looks back up.] Think you'd like to freshen up, right?

[He lifts his hips just enough to adjust, leans in to steal a soft kiss from her lips.] Wait here, I'll fetch you something.

[ She hadn't intended it as further invitation, somewhere closer to genuine curiosity prompting her question about how they could occupy their time waiting for their meal — even the promise of something delivered to them is a luxury she's still getting accustomed to. ]

Please. [ For as brief as the kiss is, it isn't lacking in its heat, her fingers briefly spanning the curve of his jaw before he pulls away from her to retrieve what she'll need.

And, in the meantime, she'll lean forward to reach for her glass, the flavor of it residing on her lips in tandem with his indescribable taste. ]

[She may have not intended it as such, but Dante had already been struggling with his own need building up, fed by the wish that he has to do it all over again, out of his entire will alone.

He heads to a small bathroom on the other side of the room, gets a small fresh hand towel. Gets a bottle of water on the way back, passing by the counter. Sets the bottle on the table - the floor is sticky, he notices, and it's a good thing neither of them took their shoes off because there's glass on the floor still.

Hands her the towel before settling back beside her.] There's a bathroom here with what I think is a bidet, and another with a shower on the lower floor if you feel like it. [He switches on his phone - the app of the pizza place is the only icon on his home screen aside from his phone and messaging applications.] Ordering the pizza will take only a minute or two.

[ She collects the towel from him with a small, grateful smile and a nod of her head; any effort she makes to attend to her own state will be something she pursues behind the privacy of a closed door, rather than deal with it here. But she's careful, both in how she rises and how she navigates the layout of the room afterward, cautiously stepping over any shards of glass on the floor before bending low to retrieve the torn remnants of her underwear with a stifled grin. ]

I'll only be a moment.

[ She'll leave the specifics of the ordering to him, given that he seems to have that fairly well in hand, and briefly excuses herself to clean up as best as she's able without fully disrobing, since that would likely take more time than she can afford to use up here — but eventually, she returns, cheeks flushed with noticeable color from their recent exertions, and assumes a seat next to him. ]

What did we decide on?

[Ordering the pizza had been an almost mechanic affair. Dante's fingers easily tapped away on the screen, selecting all the ingredients, save olives, and leaving a note for the kitchen saying No olives!!!.

He knew there'd be olives. But ah, well. For once, Dante felt satisfied, a little looser, relaxed.

He was starting to find it problematic, skin growing cold when Vanessa comes back. The flush to her cheeks warms him up again, and when she resumes her spot next to him, he's smiling.]

My favorite, [a cheeky grin for going for his favorite and not trying to guess her tastes] but it has all the ingredients, so those you don't like, you can just take them out and give them to me. Take it you're from before the dish was invented, huh?

I suppose that's a relatively easy matter to deduce.

[ The when of her origins, that is; it's a fact that most seem to be able to stumble on rather quickly, whether due to her manner of speech or her relative unfamiliarity with most of the technological advantages this city boasts. It had taken her some time to learn how the devices truly worked and the avenues she could utilize to send a message. Text is easiest, and she's slowly adjusting to the voice component, but trying to take a record of anything involving that video function has frequently proven difficult.

One of her hands idly smooths the slightly rumpled skirt of her dress over her lap; the other reaches forward for her glass again, and in that moment it may appear, aside from that blushing, that they hadn't just participated in anything along those intimate lines. Almost as if it never happened at all. ]

It was 1892, before I arrived here.

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