in these trying times we're not trying

maybe i'm a runaway train, maybe i'm a feather in a hurricane

"It seems like most of you were dealt the same hand." The alchemist replies with a sober smile. While there were many who had reclaimed their sexuality and their power, rarely did one hear origin stories from a brothel-worker that didn't begin with some sort of trauma.

As her hands press against his cheeks, his magic spills into her and the quiet thrill of dominance that laps against the shores of her soul is echoed back into him. It isn't a surprising feeling all things considered, though certain parts of himself are less happy about it than others. She has control only because he lets her, and though Remi is able to keep his predatory instincts under control, feathers break through his curls here and there. "I...think so?" He replies, his confusion evident in the way his green eyes narrow, staring into her eyes that don't at all mirror his boyish naivety.

THE LULLABY

maybe it's a long gray game, but maybe that's a good thing

Maeve

"We were, but we can talk about my trauma later," Maeve murmurs, lips forming an amused smile as she moves a hand from his cheek to his hair. Her fingers slip into the curls lightly, pausing when they encounter something decidedly not hair. She lifts a brow, but her expression relaxes a moment later. Stranger things have happened.

She draws back, taking his hand and tugging him from his resting place, "Alright. As long as you can do that then we're on the same page." Maeve glances back at him as she leads him towards the still steaming tub. She releases him when they both reach the edge, turning away to adjust the screen so it cuts them off from the rest of the room once more. "Strip." There is a commanding edge to her still soft voice as she circles around him, fingers trailing over his shoulder lightly.

Maeve stops behind him, palms smoothing up his back and around to his chest as she rises up on her tip toes to press a kiss to the back of his neck. "I'm dying for a bath and I'd like for you to join me." She coos against his pulse as her fingers inch towards the hem of his shirt, starting to bunch the fabric so she can more easily pull it off.

Poor little girl
still waiting for her happy ending

maybe i'm a runaway train, maybe i'm a feather in a hurricane

"Sorry." Remi mumbles with an apologetic smile as her fingertips brush against feathers.

He stands as she tugs lightly against him, however as she draws the border between the room closed, he eyes the tub with confusion. Her command and what she does next draw decidedly different reactions from within him; the former making him blink boyishly, while the latter makes his fingers ball into fists. "I—" He all but pants, teeth clicking together. "Don't." He says of her circling them. Already his fingertips have edged closer to being claws than human as his predatory nature stirs in his belly. "Please." The alchemist adds with a good deal more sincerity. "I don't want to hurt you, and these days...I'm not as in control of myself as I'd like to be." The clarification is said with a tone of apology, Remi's accent sweeping the words over his lips as he dips his head slightly—coincidentally making it all the easier for her lips to press against the back of his neck.

"I'm sure we won't both fit in there." The alchemist mumbles, eyeing the tub even as Maeve tugs at the bottom of his shirt. Still unsure what and how this is meant to do to help him, Remi shrugs out of his top, revealing a chest that's as marred by scars as it is carved by muscle. In the center, just below his sternum, is perhaps the most grotesque of his scars, silvered and still angry looking despite being nearly two years old now.

THE LULLABY

maybe it's a long gray game, but maybe that's a good thing

Maeve

She stops her circling immediately when the harsh word cuts through the quiet of the room. Noted. No circling. Maeve lets the shirt fall to the floor and her hands are met with skin the next time she touches him. With featherlight fingertips, she traces his scars until her hands slip down his arms to find his hands. Gently, she pries them open, urging him to relax as her lips trail over his neck and shoulders. "Okay.. okay.. I won't." She murmurs, reassuring him as she presses one more kiss to his shoulder before drawing back so she can stand in front of him again.

"You'd be surprised... I can guarantee that we will both fit in it." With a little bit of finagling and very little space between them, but they will fit. She's small enough that she's not concerned with the logistics of it. Maeve tilts her face up towards his, a ghost of a smile on her lips as she meets his eyes. "What happened to all that trust, huh?" The woman can't help teasing him, her nose wrinkling as a laugh threatens to push past her lips.

Her hands on back on him then, finding his and guiding them to her hips in a silent instruction to touch her. "You're not going to hurt me. I don't think at least... So just relax." She dips her head towards his chest, lips brushing lightly across his skin and scars, as her fingers deftly take care of the closures on his pants. Maeve pauses in her kisses to nip at his collarbone, soothing the bite with a swipe of her tongue.

Poor little girl
still waiting for her happy ending

maybe i'm a runaway train, maybe i'm a feather in a hurricane

Like a dog whose hackles are up, Maeve's kisses do little to soothe down the predator that her motions have awakened. Swallowing hard as she forced his fingers to unclench, he nods, though there's still a good amount of tension in the gesture. The kisses, the bath...it all makes more sense now just how the acting-Madame is going to try and help him potentially understand more about his preferences. The easy confidence he feels pulse from her feels like a rose blooming in a midnight field, and though he's conflicted, it's easy to be swept away by it.

"You should know—" He mumbles as his hands are guided toward her hips. The silken fabric of her robe is cool to the touch, though the body beneath is anything but. Ronin was always blistering hot, and Isla quite cool; this was somewhere in the middle. With hands both strong and gentle, Remi lets his fingers fit around her waist, his index fingers nearly touching one another. It nearly makes him laugh, how small she is compared to someone like Ronin, until he remembers what he'd been trying to say before. "—I can feel what you're feeling, when you touch me. My skin, that is."

It was quite invasive, his magic. Or it could be, at least, and Remi always felt compelled to make sure others knew what they were opening themselves up to by being in contact with him. "Not thoughts, but...emotions. Feelings."

It's her bite more than the hands undoing his pants or the featherlight dance of her fingers that make him shiver. Closing his eyes, Remi exhales a shaky breath that was meant to help ground him in the moment, but fails utterly.

THE LULLABY

maybe it's a long gray game, but maybe that's a good thing

Maeve

It's a slow process. Getting him to relax. Soothing that beast she unknowingly awakened moments before, but she presses on in her endeavors. At first when he speaks, she thinks he's referencing the tub and she almost makes a joke, but she's distracted by his hands. Maeve knew she was small. She's always been tiny. Thin, lithe, and light on her feet. It wasn't until his hands circled her waist that she seems to realize just how tiny she is. She swallows thickly as fresh heat blooms in her belly as her tongue darts out to taste him again. Faintly his words sound in her ears, not sinking in at first, but the moment they do she draws back just enough to look up at him.

"You can feel what I'm feeling then? Interesting... I- I can definitely say that's a new one." Her brows draw together and her lips quirk up into a slight smile as she mulls over this new information. "And here I was thinking I'd seen everything." There is a lot she hasn't seen or done. Apparently she can cross this off the list. Maeve presses her hands to his skin then, one resting over his heart while the other curls at his hip to grip lightly. Her intentions clear in the touch. She's an open book.

A lot of things swirl together in her feelings for him to taste and sample as he wishes. That cool confidence from earlier, a freshly budding heat that's unmistakably lust, and that gentle control that's more like a whisper than it was the first time he felt it. Maeve draws in a breath of her own, ribs expanding against his grip at her waist as she licks her lips. "Do you want to get in the tub with me?"

Poor little girl
still waiting for her happy ending

maybe i'm a runaway train, maybe i'm a feather in a hurricane

Remi's smile only tugs at half of his face, one side with a smile and a dimple, while the other remains wary and apologetic. He's far too modest and uncomfortable with what he can do to utter the predictable, Oh that's nothing. You should see what else I can do, and so he just nods again. As she curls herself around him, his lashes flutter with the flood of new sensation, before finally slipping closed as he tries to sort through it all. To him, she is like a well-made vessel, sea-ready and worthy as any ship might be. She knows the waters in which she leads them, but her confidence doesn't make her any less adjustable for her skill. It's that above all else, he's drawn to.

There's something important, about figuring out what is happening with Isla, and perhaps it's because of his newfound solidity with Ronin that Remi feels comfortable enough to explore what it might be. Did he ever think that was going to include stripping naked and getting into a bathtub with a complete stranger? No; for all his creativity, no, his mind would have never imagined this.

Looking at her through furrowed brows, Remi pulls in a breath at her question, trying to relax. His fingertips slide from her waist, trailing across her belly where the sash of her robe is tied. The alchemist doesn't seek out her green stare for permission, knowing that he had it already. 'Well, with another man sleeping just on the other side of this screen, I can't say it is my first choice." Remi admits in a low voice, his broad shoulders shrugging. "But you asked me to trust you."

THE LULLABY

maybe it's a long gray game, but maybe that's a good thing

Maeve

She's transfixed. The first flutter of his lashes has her waiting with bated breath, a sudden nervousness forming in her belly. What if he doesn't like what he feels? Would it matter? They're her feelings. It's not like she can tailor them to suit him. Maeve lets out the breath, instead focusing on the way he loses himself in what he's feeling. She wants to ask if he enjoys it. If there is a rush that comes with it, but she stays quiet, letting him sort through what he's feeling in peace.

Only when his eyes open again and his fingers finally find the satin sash that keeps her robe closed does she open her mouth to speak. Except instead of words, comes a laugh. Bright and bubbly as a hand comes up to cover her mouth to silence the sound. Too late. There is a rustling on the other side, feet hitting the floor, and then a voice calling out to her. "I'll see you later, Mae." The door opens and closes with a soft click. She drops her forehead to his chest, trying to contain her giggles.

"Guess you don't have to worry about that part anymore." Maeve finally manages, drawing in a deep breath and letting it out quickly to banish the last of her laughter. "Alright, love, enough stalling. Are you going to undress me or not?" She arches a brow at him, an easy smile settling on her lips as her fingers find his skin again, curling into the waistband of his pants.

Poor little girl
still waiting for her happy ending

maybe i'm a runaway train, maybe i'm a feather in a hurricane

The sound of Locke stirring has the alchemist tensing, frozen in place. Not unlike how a predators might, Remi's eyes grow dark as his pupils expand, his eyes tracking the movement he hears on the other side of the curtain. The muscles on his side twitch as wide tawny wings sprout from his shoulder blades. The posture is entirely aggressive despite the situation, and it's only as Locke' snoozily mumbles a goodbye that Remi's wings drop slightly.

Her laughter against his chest just has him exhaling as he shakes his head. Had Locke heard, and took his cue? Had he been awake the whole time? Was it something Maeve did? Pressing his tongue against the roof of his mouth and turning his attention back to her, Remi snorts a tentatively amused sound. "Well it isn't as though you've made it difficult." He murmurs.

Whereas the new-Madame's fingers might have felt featherlight, Remi's infact are featherlight. His fingertips dip beneath the material of her robe where it parts just above her navel. However instead of skin, she'll feel the delicate brush of actual feathers as his hands roam up the curve of her back, releasing the wrap of the robe from around her hips. Keeping his eyes upon hers, it is with actual fingers and their associated pressure that he'll map out the curve of her collarbones that he might remove the silken garment altogether.

THE LULLABY

maybe it's a long gray game, but maybe that's a good thing

Maeve

There were plenty of reactions Maeve might have expected from the other man when her previous caller made to leave. Wings suddenly sprouting from his back was not one of them. A small gasp catches in her throat as her eyes go wide. She doesn't dare move expect to press herself closer to him as if that might soothe him. She's not sure it will, but she tries anyway. Only when the door closes and her laughter dies down does she touch him again. "Easy, love.." Maeve murmurs, fingers trailing up his back lightly as her returns his attention to her again.

While it might seem that the timing was a bit too perfect, Maeve knows that Locke had something to do after their little appointment. She also knows he always takes about a fifteen minute catnap before he heads out. Her laugh just happened to be the thing that woke him up this time. His comment earns him another laugh, softer this time as she tilts her head back to gaze up at him. "It could have been even easier had you not been so off put by my nakedness when I invited you in," the Madame retorts, baiting him to play as her fingers skim up his back towards his shoulder blades, unintentionally seeking out the base of his wings. Only when her fingertips find feathers does she pause, drawing her hands back to gauge his reaction.

For all of her confidence and command, she is still just a woman. A woman with skin who is very interested in the way his fingertips feel against her. A breath stutters out of her and she swallows thickly, bottom lip catching between her teeth as he holds her gaze. He doesn't let her look away as his touch teases across sensitive flesh and she has to keep from pressing her thighs together at the sudden ache that makes itself known. This was going rather well. At least for her and he seemed... interested. This was progress.

Finally, the garment slips from her shoulders, falling in a silken puddle around her bare feet and finally she's nude before him again. Inches of pale skin dotted with only a few stray beauty marks here and there. An intricate tattoo covers her ribs on the right side. A snake weaving through beautiful budding florals that winds to hug the underside of her breast. He's met with a fairly petite frame. Although, that was obvious before she lost her robe. Her breasts are modest. Small little handfuls with dusky pink nipples complete with barbells. There are no scars on her body. Just smooth, milky skin perfect for touching. Maeve takes a breath, feeling her flush travel from her cheeks to the tops of her breasts as he looks down at her. "Well? Do you like what you see?" She finally breaks the silence between them, fighting down the sudden nerves twisting in her stomach.

Poor little girl
still waiting for her happy ending

maybe i'm a runaway train, maybe i'm a feather in a hurricane

'Well, it wasn't just your nakedness.' The alchemist points out with a wry tilt of his head. "But even in a place like this, I thought it was still polite." He wasn't a paying customer after all, and had let himself into the wrong room.

As Maeve's fingers dance to where his skin melds into the bones of his wings, he can feel her curious uncertainty. His smile is fleeting, as his head lowers somewhat; an untamed creature allowing for her exploration of him. "It feels..." But she hadn't any sort of appendages that he might liken the experience to, and so he merely shakes his head. Instead, he stretches out his wings to their full length, his wingspan enormous even in these large apartments, that she might feel the way his musculature shifts and moves beneath skin and feathers alike.

Her question brings a look of thoughtful consideration to the alchemist's face, as his wings relax and he takes a step backward. Softly his eyes fall over her, regarding her not with hasty boyish lust, but with the understanding of a painter, or a sculptor. And alchemist, even. With Isla, LongNight had been upon them and though there had been candlelight in the room, he'd been so consumed by her, that'd he hadn't really let himself look at her.  No stranger to the female body, it was true that it had been years since he'd been invited to properly consider it, and so with Maeve's permission, he did just that.

Reaching forward, he pushes back a lock of her hair which had come to rest over her shoulder, that he might take in the curve of her neck and hollows of her collarbones. His green eyes wash over her studiously; reverently, almost. Holding up his palms to her breasts as if gauging the size in comparison to his hands, his skin just brushes against her nipples before his finger begins to trace the contours of her tattoo in the air. Glancing at her face, wanting to ensure he had her permission still, Remi lowers himself to his knees that he could more easily take in the lower half of her. His hands continue to ghost around her—never quite touching her—as he maps the narrow channel of her waist and then rise of her hips. (She'll notice, if she's quite observant, that despite how his hands float above her skin, never do they cast a shadow on her). His lips are moving, noting every freckle, every beauty mark. Reaching now for her thigh that he might turn her slightly, Remi's head leans to the side as he gazes up the length of her back; the slow roll of her thighs and where they crease against her ass, the waves of her back and how they fall into her spine, the protrusion of her shoulder blades.

'You're beautiful.' He murmurs at last, his accent growing all the more thick for his whispered words, as he gazes up at her from her navel. "But you have to know that."

THE LULLABY

maybe it's a long gray game, but maybe that's a good thing

Maeve

His words encourage another smile to take hold of her lips and she has to bite her lip to keep from laughing, "Right... And you are always polite. Is that it?" Maeve retorts, tilting her chin up towards the taller man.

He's leaning closer to her, the look in his eyes causing her to shiver. Not unlike a predator in the way he regards her even as his wings flare out behind him. Everything in her says not to take her eyes off of his face, but his wings have her attention now. How would they feel wrapped around her? Brushing against her skin? Are they warm? Maeve allows herself to run her fingertips over the ridges of his wings, feeling the way they flex and shiver beneath her touch. "They're beautiful..." A soft awe colors her words as she finally returns her gaze to his.

Except it's his turn to look at her and look he does. Never before has she been so closely studied. There is a reverence in his eyes that makes her feel like a goddess he's planning to worship. Not that she is and not that she would want to be. Even if it did mean that she was gazed upon like this. Maeve's breathing is slow and even as his hands barely trace over her skin, mapping her out with care. It isn't until he sinks onto his knees before her that she touches him again. Slender fingers slip into his hair, brushing through the curls as she licks her lips, meeting his eyes once more. "But that wasn't the question... I asked what you thought. If you like what you see." That's the point of this. Finding out what he likes. If it was just his most recent lover or something more. That's what they were trying to find out. So, yes, it did matter what he thought.

Maeve's other hand finds purchase on his shoulder as she takes a small step closer. His chin practically rests at her navel as she draws him to her. "You can touch me... I want you to." The encouragement is gentle, urging him to continue this little dance they've found themselves in.

Poor little girl
still waiting for her happy ending

maybe i'm a runaway train, maybe i'm a feather in a hurricane

'Once, I always was.' Remi replies with a slight nod. It was true, too. He was humble and submissive and polite to a fault. "Lately though I've been accused of being a monster, so...I suppose I am just trying to find a balance."

He says nothing in response to her comment of his wings, though some of his longer flight feathers do shiver slightly as her fingers continue to wander over his pale plumage. "I've been...what this world calls an attuned, since I was young. I've always had wings, though..not quite like this." Indeed, before his partial shifting abilities were laughable, or at least, far less alluring. Having wings for arms did not draw the same reaction as having the wings that now sprouted from his back. They came from his most terrifying shift, though, which was likely ironic in and of itself.

Maeve points out the obvious, and Remi smiles apologetically up at her. The feathers are gone from his curls now, his mind soothed by the study of her, and he finds he doesn't mind the tug of her fingers in his hair. "I don't know." He answers simply. With his pants only half-unfastened, it isn't as though he has a raging erection that they might gauge his arousal by. But then, Remi wasn't that sort anyway. Not in moments like these.

She invites his exploration to become more detailed, and rather than answering, Remi tilts his cheek against the rise of her belly, that he might feel the softness of her skin and she might feel the brush of his unshaven cheeks. Placing his palms softly upon her hipbones, noting the way they subtly push against the taut whiteness of her skin, he extends his fingers to wrap around the width of her hips, before pressing in and upwards to where her waist narrows. Like a potter manipulating clay, his hands rise and wrap around her ribcage before softly flowing inward to her breasts. They are indeed perfectly-palm sized as he knew they would be, making it easy for him to hollow his hands against them so as to only lightly graze over her nipples. An errant sneeze from the alchemist has the ability to end Maeve's life, whether she realizes it or not, such is his strength. So it is that his movements are intentional and measured as he surveys the pale hills and valleys of her body.

'More?' He wonders after a moment, gazing up at her through sea-glass green eyes and gently furrowed brows.

THE LULLABY

maybe it's a long gray game, but maybe that's a good thing

Maeve

Trying to find a balance. When she looks at him it's hard to imagine him as a monster. Of course, she doesn't know him or his past. She doesn't know the things he's done, but in this moment, he seems far from a monster; not with the way he's kneeling before her. "Balance is important." It's the only response she really gives in regards to the comment, her attention being drawn elsewhere.

"Well, aren't you a special boy," she teases, a faint smile still playing on her lips they linger in this in between. Maeve wasn't anything of the sort. She was normal. No special gifts or powers or shifts. All she was was before him. A simple woman made of flesh and bone. So small and frail in comparison to someone like him. Not that there was anything wrong with it, but she wasn't like the rest of them. Ascended, Attuned, Demi-gods... All of these things seemed so beyond her. Beyond her capabilities. These thoughts are pushed away when he speaks again.

Maeve nods, expression shifting into one of gentle understanding, "That's okay... It's what we're trying to figure out." The Madame soothes, nails scratching lightly at his scalp as his cheeks lays against her belly. It's warm and rough against the sensitive skin; she urges him closer as that heat begins to smolder in her belly. Barely lit embers slowly being fanned by his exploratory touches. It isn't until his hands reach her breasts that she makes a sound. The faint brush of his palms across her nipples earns him a shiver and a faint arch of her back as she presses into him. A soft sound of approval catches in her throat as her lips part with an exhale, "More..."

When she looks down to meet his gaze, the green of her own eyes is darker as she holds his stare. "You can use your mouth too.." Another soft suggestion that he might take to urge him along. Maeve's fingers press lightly into the back of his skull, guiding his mouth towards her skin if he's so inclined.

Poor little girl
still waiting for her happy ending