I don't want to steal your freedom
you don't have to change your mind
The touch of her lips to his cheek has it dumpling beneath her touch, old wounds and memories alike washed away by her presence. They can only hurt him in the sanctity of his mind now. Phoebe? She’s actually here, alive and real, and that is far more deserving of his active attention.
“I hope so as well,” he admits, boyishly shy and hopeful. They may not follow the same deity, but faith is rooted deeply in both their hearts. It’s no surprise they share this then. This desire to encourage each other onto the paths their patrons lay before them, both trusting that what they are asked to do has the right thing at heart.
But there are some things that do not deserve split attention, and a beautiful woman who loves him laying in his arms? That is certainly one of them. The touch of her hands on his shoulders and her eager consent has him dipping low over her body, arms braced against the bed to press a teasing trail of kisses over the curve of her jaw...down the long graceful line of her neck...across the dip of her collarbone and the flat planes of her breastbone. Breath warm and lips dragging against skin that is only further revealed by the way he drags her dress down to sit below her breasts, framing them for his pleasure alone. Shoving the fabric greedily past her elbows and off her arms, eager for as much bared skin as he can get. Exploring this new form of hers, as if somehow her partial godhood has changed her and he must rediscover every dip and curve she owns.
His hips move in a smooth motion, dipping into her hands to encourage her to explore to her own content. Harper is more than occupied on his own as he dips his head once more to pull one of her bared nipples into his mouth, tongue laving until it buds and perks and teeth gently exerting playful pressure. Shifting his balance to one arm, bicep flexing as he moves his knee higher between her legs for her to clench around or rut against, Harper pulls his opposite hand off the bedding to cup and squeeze her other breast, calloused hand firm and thumb brushing over the apex there as well.
“I hope so as well,” he admits, boyishly shy and hopeful. They may not follow the same deity, but faith is rooted deeply in both their hearts. It’s no surprise they share this then. This desire to encourage each other onto the paths their patrons lay before them, both trusting that what they are asked to do has the right thing at heart.
But there are some things that do not deserve split attention, and a beautiful woman who loves him laying in his arms? That is certainly one of them. The touch of her hands on his shoulders and her eager consent has him dipping low over her body, arms braced against the bed to press a teasing trail of kisses over the curve of her jaw...down the long graceful line of her neck...across the dip of her collarbone and the flat planes of her breastbone. Breath warm and lips dragging against skin that is only further revealed by the way he drags her dress down to sit below her breasts, framing them for his pleasure alone. Shoving the fabric greedily past her elbows and off her arms, eager for as much bared skin as he can get. Exploring this new form of hers, as if somehow her partial godhood has changed her and he must rediscover every dip and curve she owns.
His hips move in a smooth motion, dipping into her hands to encourage her to explore to her own content. Harper is more than occupied on his own as he dips his head once more to pull one of her bared nipples into his mouth, tongue laving until it buds and perks and teeth gently exerting playful pressure. Shifting his balance to one arm, bicep flexing as he moves his knee higher between her legs for her to clench around or rut against, Harper pulls his opposite hand off the bedding to cup and squeeze her other breast, calloused hand firm and thumb brushing over the apex there as well.
I just want to make you love me
so please let me take my time
HARPER
