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You unlatch the window and pull it open, letting the view fill your vision.From what little you’ve seen today, Jouvente is a beautiful city. Houses of Change dot the landscape amid street after street of gorgeous, Old Vaugardian buildings that give the set a distinctly elegant charm. There’s an opera house nearby that’s rumored to be just as impressive as the Grand Poterian Theater, but you’ll believe it when you see it.Resting your head in your hands, you peer out at the scenery; the sun is setting over the horizon and casting the world in a gentle silver glow, shining on far off vineyards and streaming through the trees. The scent of lavender carries into your room and fills you with a sense of calm. Maybe… maybe you can have this. A life full of this, of scenic views, and traveling with your family. Of sleepovers with Mirabelle, and secret adventures with Odile, and cooking lessons with Bonnie, and fishing trips with Pétronille.And, of course, the quiet evenings with Isabeau that you’ve come to love. Which reminds you!You run through the script you’ve written for tonight, clarifying your words, paring away anything that might be left up to interpretation. Your heart pounds harshly against your ribs.
(Okay. It’s not that hard. Just… ask him. The worst he’ll say is no. Or, “Ew what the crab, Sif, you’re such a creep! I never want to see you again!”)
(That would be pretty bad.)
(It’s fine, you’re going to be fine!)
(Probably.)
You rest your hand on your chest and breathe in and out. You’ve been preparing for this conversation for a few weeks, at this point, just trying to pluck up the courage to ask Isabeau about The Thing.It’s okay! You’re okay! It’s nothing! You could ask him to carry you the rest of your time in Jouvente and he’d do it! You know he would. So why are you so nervous right now?
(Breathe. Smell the flowers on the breeze. He loves you.)
You hear the door open and turn around. In his arms, Isa’s carrying a few bags from at least three different shops, and he’s wearing a smile brighter than the sun shimmering behind you.“Sif!” he calls.“Isa!” you respond, your nerves fading. This was always your favorite part about looping back to Dormont—or it was until you got too exhausted to read your lines correctly. You won’t let the bit slip away from you again!“Sif!!!”“Isa!!!”He chuckles and moves to set down his bags. “Aaaaalright, bit’s officially over.”Aw. “You’re no fun!”
You bounce over to his loot and snoop through the contents. There are multiple yards of fabric, miscellaneous sewing notions, and a bag entirely dedicated to various trims and ribbons. Most of the fabrics are pretty bright, which seems a little out of character for a man whose entire wardrobe consists of various iterations on lightless, so you stare up at him curiously.His cheeks darken at your expression and he stutters, “So... I was thinking, um—I just—I thought maybe it would be nice to make something for you! And you told me a while back that you preferred lighter shades. A-and, um, you always look really nice in darkless, so. Yeah.”You love how bashful he is. It’s hilarious and adorable and you want to kiss the blush right off his face, even if you’d only succeed in deepening it. He’s so cute.“You’re so cute.”
(Wait no that was supposed to be an inside thought—)
You feel your own cheeks burning and try to duck into your cloak, only to remember that you’d shed it earlier in favor of your turtleneck and pants. Isabeau snickers from behind a hand and you shoot him a venomous glare.“Wow, Sif, you’re giving Odile a run for her money with that side eye!” he chokes out between laughs.You squint in faux fury and run a thumb across your throat. “Count your days, Isabeau… count your days.”He falls to the bed with a dramatic, “No, please!!!”You walk over and sit next to him, crossing your legs and laying your hand over his. “Hehe! Well,” you start, “I’m excited to finally get to model for you. That is what I wished for, y’know.”The back of his palm radiates a comforting warmth. It never occurred to you how nice touch was until you were trapped in Time Jail, and then it was the only thing keeping you sane some loops.“As if I could ever forget!” he preens.A beat passes. After a moment, he sniffs the air curiously. Then, clearly trying to be subtle about it, he sniffs toward his armpit and instantly recoils. You weren’t paying attention, but you guess he smells a little strong? You don’t really mind though.Isa hops to his feet, smiling apologetically. “Sorry but um… could we push it to tomorrow? I think I need a shower."“Sounds like a plan, stinky.” He pouts at you and you bite back a laugh as he lumbers off to the bathroom.It’s only after the door closes that you realize you completely forgot to say The Thing. You know, the one thing you wanted to bring up when he got back. But it’s fine! You can just talk to him after he gets out, it’s not like you’ve been sitting in your room since noon trying to work up the nerve to spit it out!!! Whatever.The sound of the shower starting in the other room is a welcome distraction from the stifling frustration building under your skin. You listen to the quiet splashing and feel your eyelids start to droop, getting heavier and heavier as you recline onto your back. You take off your eyepatch, toss it in the vague direction of the nightstand, and curl up in a throw at the end of the bed. You’re just resting your eye, that’s all..*+To say you come to consciousness is an overstatement. You’re really only aware that something is nudging your shoulder, so you shake it off. It comes back, now jostling you slightly, and only then do you open your eye to see what could possibly be bothering you like this.In the dim lamplight—stars, when did it get so late?—Isa looks a little timid as you peer up at him through your lashes. His hair’s still damp from the shower, and there’s a towel hanging around his neck that, when further examined, seems to be thrown over a very shirtless torso. It’s not like you’ve never seen Isabeau’s body, it’s just… different, now that you’re dating. It feels more intimate, like you’re privy to something special, just between you and him. You let your eye wander a little.There’s a number of scars drawn over his skin. Some you distantly remember him getting from sadnesses along your journey, but others you can’t place. The pale, mirrored lines running from the sides of his sternum and beneath the curves of his pecs remind you of peaceful nights under the stars. The muscles he’s worked so hard to cultivate are on full display, impressive even when relaxed, and you send a reluctant thanks to the Universe for crafting you to be small enough to fit snugly between his arms. He’s not toned, necessarily, but that doesn’t matter much to you. If anything, the fat gathering in the folds of his belly and gently rolling at his waistband makes him even more gorgeous in your eyes—or eye, rather.On a more superficial note, you’ve always appreciated the scruff he keeps neatly trimmed along his chin; aside from that, though, he doesn’t seem very keen on shaving. His arms, legs, chest, and stomach are blanketed in a layer of coarse dark hair, with a trail thickening as it descends from his navel and disappears beneath his boxers. Foggily, you wonder what you’d find if you——He clears his throat. Glancing up, still lightly drowsing, you’re greeted by a furiously blushing Isabeau.“Was I staring?” You already know the answer, you’re just feeling a little flirty.“YES!!!”He’s fidgeting with the towel, picking at a loose thread. He seems a little tense. Self-conscious? You aren’t sure.“...Did you want me to stop?”“That's not—I didn't, um… I didn’t say that. Specifically.”You smirk. “So you like when I stare at you.”Isa covers his face with his palms to hide the tomato-grey shade blossoming over his skin. Unfortunately for him, he’s flushed down to his clavicle.He pipes up again from between his fingers, “...Maybe. A little. A normal amount for someone to like something.”Interesting! You note that down for future reference and, despite how fun it is to tease him, decide to close your eye again. An act of mercy.You hear him trod off, and then there’s a faint rustling sound by the closet as he changes into his pajamas. “A-anyway, Sif, sorry for waking you! But you didn’t look very comfortable? I figured you’d probably sleep better if you actually, like. Got in the bed.”You mumble petulantly. How could he… doubting your napping positions… you are a professional napper! Napper Supreme! Pre-loops, anyway. You’ve been having a hard time staying asleep lately, so maybe Isa has the right idea—not that you’d ever admit that. You crawl further towards the pillows but deliberately avoid settling below the blanket.He chuckles to himself and you feel the mattress dip as he sits next to you. Pushing yourself up, you bite back a yawn and lean into his side; you catch the scent of soap on his skin and, oddly, you almost feel disappointed.For a moment, you just rest in the companionable silence.
(Siffrin. The Thing.)
“So, uh. Unrelated to my sleeping habits, I was wondering if I could…” you pause, drawing lines between the freckles on his arm, “...I wanted to ask you something.”You can feel him turn to look down at you as he speaks, “Yeah?”“Mhm.”You feel your face warming up under Isabeau’s attention. He’s not saying anything. Stars, this is so much more awkward than you thought it was going to be.He coughs. “Well… what’d you wanna ask?”You take a breath, hold it until you think you’re going to explode, and then blurt, “Iwanttohavesexwithyoubutonlyifyou’recomfortablewiththatbecauseIwouldn’twanttomakeyouuncomfortableoranythingsoyoucantotallysayno!”…“I uh… I don’t think I caught that?”
(BLIND IT BLIND IT BLIND IT BLIND IT BLIND IT!!!!!!)
Oh, just say it already! “Isabeau, um—I’d like to—I want to have sex with you. But only if that’s something you’d want too! Because I really don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything, I—I just wanted to offer that because I know you wouldn’t ever ask about it even if you did want it, which I don’t know if you do, so I’m just putting it out there! And you can totally say no!”As your words sink in, he tenses more and more until his body is completely rigid next to you. You’re already planning an apology when you look at him, but he’s… you don’t even know how to describe his expression. He’s beet-dark and staring at the wall like it’s his job. Is he even breathing right now?Tentatively, you reach for him. “Isa?”As you touch his arm, he squeaks, “Siffrin I am trying so hard to be normal and cool and relaxed but what you just said is like—Change—sorry I?? Um??? Sorry can I just. J-just give me a second to process that.”“Okay?”You pull back, trying to give him some room, but he grabs your hand before you can move apart. You let your joined hands fall to where his leg touches yours.Isabeau closes his eyes and breathes very intentionally for a moment: in, hold, out, repeat. After he’s centered himself, he shuffles away to turn his body towards you.He’s worked himself into something resembling seriousness in spite of how heavily he’s blushing.“Alright, ignoring the fact that you didn’t actually ask me anything, let’s um, let’s talk about this.”You blink at him. “Oh. Yeah, I meant to phrase it like a question. Didn’t actually come out that way though…” your face squishes as you reach for a pun, “...I guess you could chalk it up to poor ask management.”He tries, and subsequently fails, to hide how he snorts at your joke. “Sif that was bad. I mean even for me, that was rough.”You poke at his face, “Ahh but you’re laughing though!”He snickers. “It’s a pity laugh! I pity you! For making such a question-able pun!”Your mouth betrays you, splitting in a grin. You turn away and pretend that it wasn’t funny. Because it wasn’t. At all.
(It was a little funny.)
He sighs, “Okay, okay. Talking time.”“Fine.”“So… you… you want to. Do things. With me.” He’s looking pointedly away from you, despite how tightly he holds your hand. His palm is so sweaty.You make an affirmative sound.He nods.
(Who said communication was difficult? You’re killing this!)
“Why?”You choke on nothing, spluttering, “W-what? Uhh… why do you ask?”He shrugs. “Well I mean, when we made this—” he holds up your hands, “—official, you told me that you’re not really… into sexual stuff, right? So I’m just kinda confused? I’m more than happy to leave it out of our relationship, y’know. Having you as my partner is already way more than I could’ve dreamed up a few months ago! And I don’t want you to do anything you aren’t going to enjoy. You’re pretty bad about the whole self-sacrificing thing, if you hadn’t noticed.”He’s not wrong. You try to stop yourself from grimacing and glance away. “But you like it, right? That’s something you’d like, if I could give it to you, right?”You hear a sharp inhale and turn back to Isa. His brow is furrowed, eyes catching yours, lips curling down at the corners.“Sif… I don’t need that from you. I don’t want that from you if it’s not something you want too. Do you think you’re holding out on me? Because I promise you, you’re not.”That’s not exactly how you feel, but it’s not an inaccurate analysis either. It’s… nice… hearing him reassure you, though. Not that you needed it.You squeeze his hand. “Isa… no, it’s not that. I just—I do want to do it. Just not for the same reasons that you might. And not just for you either, I want it for me.”“What do you mean?”You take a breath. “I want to make you feel good. You make me so happy, all the time. You’re so kind, and smart, and amazing, and wonderful, and I just. I want to do something to make you feel even a little bit as nice as you make me.”He opens his mouth to say something, but you cut him off, “And it’s not some kind of martyring thing either! Or like… me trying to repay you, or something. I want to try it. Test the waters a little, y’know? I trust you, and I love you, and I think… maybe it could be fun for me too. If I was doing it with you. I—I know you’d take care of me.”Your gaze drops to the blanket in front of you; you’re cradling his hand in yours, rubbing his knuckles with your thumb.“Sif,” he starts, “I… I mean, I appreciate the offer. I really appreciate it. It’s just… are you positive about this? If you wanna experiment, I’m—I would, um. I’d totally help you out with that. But I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret. So… I need you to tell me the truth. Are you sure?”You look into his eyes. “Yes. One hundred percent.”
(You’re as sure as you’re going to get, anyway.)
The second you say that, he visibly relaxes. It’s like his entire body just… deflates, slumping backward with a sigh of relief.“Ohhh thank Change.”“Stars, Isa, you okay?” You lean in, still holding his hand.He shoots you a tired smile. “Y-yeah, I just… I felt kinda nasty? ‘Cuz when you brought it up, I started imagining—” he stops. You can see his mind catch up to his mouth in real time.It’s like he’s exposed his vulnerable underbelly to you, and you can’t help but pounce on the opportunity: “Imagining what, Isa? Come on, use your words.”You push closer and relish how suddenly Isabeau’s cheeks start to burn again. You can feel the heat radiating from his skin, drawing you nearer, like a moth to a flame. He’s fiddling with the drawstring of his pajama pants and the thrill of flirting like this hits you like a bullet. He shuts his eyes.“...Imagining you.”You nod. “Doing what?”“Sif, I—I’m gonna die. If you make me say it.”You giggle and press against his side. You grab his arm with both hands, exploring the curves of his muscles. “If you don’t want to, don’t. But,” you tilt your head up and whisper into his ear, “I really want to hear it.”Isabeau whines, jamming the heels of his palms into his face. You reach up and gently peel a hand away. He peeks out at you, a picture of bashful beauty, and you can feel your brain being rewired. You have to get him to look at you like that again.He starts to fall into the crook of your neck and you let him. He wraps himself around you, holding you in a way that gives him the chance to hide his expression. You reach up and scratch light circles across his shoulders.Quietly, he continues, “Imagining you… f-fucking me. Me fucking you. Your hands in my hair, on my chest, my—” his voice drops to a choked whisper, “—my cock. Learning how we fit together.”You can’t help the shudder that hits your body. It flatters you to hear him fantasize about you, to know that he sees you as something worth lusting after. But… if this is how he acts when he’s just imagining having sex with you, you start to wonder what he’d do if it actually happened. Would he squirm like this? Turn into a stuttering mess? Would he let you poke and prod and tease to your heart’s content? You feel your cheeks warming as your mind wanders.Isa’s voice snaps you out of your reverie: “Sif?”You press down on his back a little harder, let your fingers sink into the firm resistance of his muscles, and he makes a low, appreciative noise in response.“All good, Isa, just… doing some imagining of my own,” you murmur.He picks his head up to look at you. There’s a light flush spilled across his face, accentuating the dark of his freshly bitten lips. His focus darts between your mouth and your eye in equal measure.Kissing has never been your favorite thing in the world, but it’s what you do when you’re dating someone. Not to mention the fact that Isabeau adores it, so you’ve done your best to follow his lead the past few months. You’re thankful for the practice though, because learning how he likes to kiss, to be kissed, has been one of the most rewarding side-quests of your life. Making him feel good makes you feel incredible.So you move first. You press your lips to his and then lean back, making him chase you. He dutifully follows, keening as you twist to nip at his jaw, and presses you into the pillows underneath you.His hands run along your sides, exploratory, searching, before finally settling at your chest. Voice low and breathy, he breaks away to ask, “Can I… can I touch you here?”You nod your assent and draw him back into the kiss, sighing against his lips as his fingers brush against the sensitive buds of your nipples. He licks into your mouth and you let him, feeling him coax your tongue with his, eager to take him the way he’s taking you. You tilt your head against his and welcome the surge of heat that rushes from your crown to your toes.Your palms are pressed against his back, kneading at the tense muscles there, and you delight in how he groans against you. It’s getting harder and harder to focus, though, so you move a hand up to his head and grip at his hair to drag him even further into your orbit. You tug and he squeals, arms buckling at the sensation.
(What the—wait, is he alright???)
You ease up on the pressure and, much to your surprise, he reaches up to push your hand back towards his scalp. Body language is often a mystery to you but this message reads loud and clear. You dig your fingers into his hair and, hesitantly, you pull. The effect is near instantaneous, as he buries his head next to you and moans in pleasure.It’s one of the most incredible things you think you’ve ever heard, so your attention is immediately directed to finding more ways to draw it out of him. You set your mouth to work and suck at the soft skin beneath his jaw, trailing down his neck, leaving increasingly dark marks as you move. The way he whimpers at each new hickey has your head spinning, his voice rumbling through your body like a storm thundering on the horizon.You pull away, just to see him again. Isa’s pupils are blown, his blush is even stronger than it was before, shading the tops of his shoulders, and his breathing comes fast and ragged.He’s stunning.
(Stars. You did this to him?)
You can’t stop yourself from dragging him into another kiss. You revel in the filthy noises he makes against your mouth as you tighten your grip in his hair and nip at his lips. His hands are knotted in your sweater, desperately fisting the fabric while he lets you yank his reins. Whatever self-control you might’ve had once is entirely absent now. You can’t wait for your turn anymore.You grab his shoulders and roll, the strength you gained in the loops heeling at your command. All of a sudden you’re caging him in with your knees, straddling him, one arm locked against the headboard and a palm splayed over his chest. As you pull away from his face, a thin trail of saliva links your lips to his before breaking.Isa blinks up at you for a moment, totally astonished, and then he stammers, “Ohh Change, Sif… y-you can’t just—that was—Siffrin!”You’re snapped out of your daze by his shock. “Sorry! I—I got a little carried away. Was that bad?”“No that—that was. I j-just wasn’t expecting it??? But it—I liked it. A lot. That was… really good. Just, uh… maybe tell me beforehand?”You smile down at him. “Oh, okay then! I’ll be sure to let you know the next time I wanna flip you on your ass.”In the silence that follows, he flushes so hard you almost have to do a double take.
(Woah.)
“...Would you like it if I did that ag—”You don’t even have a chance to finish your sentence before he blurts out, “—Yes please I would like that very much yes thank you!!!”Try as you might, you can’t help but double over in laughter; he reaches up to steady you, chuckling at his own outburst, and you’re overcome with affection. You almost want to stop here, enjoy this while it lasts, but you can’t help but want more. There’s something you haven’t done yet.“Heh, well I’ll be sure to keep that in mind, Isa. But—um,” you pause for a second, then push forward, “can we take this further?”Isabeau chokes. You start to panic, but he waves his hands in dismissal. Clearing his throat, he croaks out a bewildered, “Uh? Is that—do you want to???”You laugh, a little nervously, and nod. He moves to take your hand and you have to rock back on your knees to keep your balance—in an instant, you’re staring into his eyes, practically sitting on his stomach, and you are struck with the understanding that this is real. It’s not just some watercolor daydream anymore, he’s right here. Beneath you.It’s a little overwhelming.He offers you a shaky grin and you feel your nerves settle, if only slightly. “Sorry, I just… can’t really believe this is happening? I mean, this is the last place I thought tonight was gonna go. It’s still a little hard to wrap my head around.”You can relate! “Yeah, I get it.”That seems to reassure him if the relief on his face is anything to go by. He picks up again, “A-anyway… if we’re gonna do anything else, we should lay some ground rules.” You pout at him and he chides, “Siffrin, I’m not gonna go into this blind. Unlike you, I like having backup plans!”You roll your eye affectionately. “Fiiiine.”You’d be lying if you said you were… excited about this turn of events. You never really pictured it like this. In your stage play, you kiss him, touch him, let him touch you, and the curtain falls as you pull down his boxers. Cut the cameras, fade to black. But it’s fine. If he wants a script to follow, the least you can do is write one.Guiltily, selfishly, you almost wish he would just… improv it. Try things out with you and let you sweep up whatever breaks when it’s over.Isa taps your leg and you lift yourself enough to give him room to sit against the headboard. You start to slide to the side, but a strong arm circles around your waist and guides you to rest in his lap. You fall towards him, stabilizing yourself on the broad expanse of his chest, and suddenly you’re the blushing damsel letting themself be swept off their feet. He smirks at the development and you want to kiss him until he can’t think straight.“What were you thinking?” you ask, trying to play it cool.His brows furrow in contemplation. “Well just like, ‘Oh yeah I don’t like this,' or, ‘I don’t want you to do this,’ that sorta thing. And we should set a safeword, just in case.”“Oh, got it.”He waits for a second. “So… anything coming to mind?”(Ah! He wants to know my rules. Huh.)You consider the question. You never really needed to reflect on what exactly made you uncomfortable when your fantasies ended at a waistband, so it’s difficult to pinpoint anything in particular.…Now that you’re thinking about it, though, there is something. When you walk yourself through the process of sex, you inevitably come to the part where you get naked. And that… well—you don’t really like the thought of Isa seeing your penis, let alone touching it. You've always found it awkward. Unwieldy. Imagining Isabeau slipping your underwear off and getting a front row seat to the comedy transpiring under your clothes… it makes your stomach churn. As the thought forces itself to the front of your mind, it strikes you as something you should probably mention. But… isn’t that the whole point of sex? What if he thinks you’re weird? What if that’s what he wants and you can’t give it to him?You don’t want to think about it.“Uh… could you tell me yours first? I just… I don’t really know.” Truthfully, you just want to stall and come up with something more normal to say, but knowing what to avoid with him is important to you too.He closes his eyes in thought, then replies, “Hmm. Well I don’t really like being degraded, and I haven’t um—I didn’t exactly,” he glances away, embarrassed, “...prepare. For this. So I’d prefer not to do anything anal? Not that I think we should go that far tonight anyway, haha!!! Just. Putting that out there. But, um, I’m pretty open to most things.”“Got it.” You take in his words and commit them to memory as best you can. You unconsciously press into his palm as it smooths over your back and he giggles softly. Stars, you love him.
(Okay. Think of something normal. Something normal not to like. Be normal. Be normal. Just say something normal.)
(...)
(Blind it all! This is supposed to be easy!!!)
No matter how hard you rack your brain for something else to say, nothing comes to you. You don’t know what you won’t like until you try it though, right? Maybe you just need to workshop the scene with him.“I, uh… I don’t think I know what I don’t like.”Isa nods understandingly and offers, “If it helps, I could say different things we could do and then you’d just… tell me how you felt about them?”That actually sounds very helpful. “Okay… yeah, that—that could be good!”“Alright!” he chirps, “Just let me know if something makes you uncomfortable or sounds lame or whatever.”You give him a thumbs up.“Well, uh… making out with you was really fun. F-for me at least. So… we could start with more of that?”“I’d like that a lot!”He beams at you. “Awesome!!! Then, we could get undressed? M-maybe… undress each other? Just our outer clothes at first.”That definitely sounds good to you. You try not to let the excitement show on your face, but your emphatic nodding seems to get the point across if Isa’s poorly hidden snickers are anything to go by.You visualize the sequence he’s offered you; making out, taking his clothes off… the image is tantalizing. The reverse is… decidedly less so, but you don’t hate it. You can work with this.“Then—um…” he trails off, nervously picking at a stray thread in your turtleneck’s hem. If you weren’t so anxious tonight, you’d poke fun at how focused he is on his fidgeting, or how dark his face is, or how he’s starting to sweat through his tank.Instead, you squeeze his shoulder in a way you hope is reassuring. Luckily, it seems to work: “…then we could take our underwear off. And—and just… touch each other some more? See what feels good?”You unintentionally clench your jaw.“I don’t want to overwhelm you though, so that’s probably where we should stop tonight.”His thoughtfulness doesn’t escape your notice, but you’re a little preoccupied doing your best to pretend the idea of getting naked doesn’t make you nauseous to fully appreciate it. You’re already this far in, though, so maybe you should just let him do what he wants? It probably won’t be as gross as you think it will. You’re probably just exaggerating.And anyway, you’ve seen enough raunchy plays and ‘anatomy studies’ to know that all parties have to be nude to have sex. You knew it’d need to happen at some point, you just hoped you could’ve postponed it a little bit. Given yourself some more time to practice your turned-on face. You really should’ve rehearsed before the show.You fight to keep the revulsion out of your voice. “Th-that’d be nice! And yeah we, uh—we should stop there. For now at least.”His smile falls. The change in atmosphere is almost suffocating.“...Sif, are you sure—”“—Yeah of course I am! Just… excited to start!”You hear the manic edge to your words as soon as they leave your mouth and immediately know he’s seen through your charade; he’s always been more perceptive than he gets credit for. Your heart thunders away behind your ribs.“Siffrin.”“What? I am excited. I’m ecstatic, even! This is a brand new frontier for us, for me, and I just. Can’t. Wait! Haha!!!”
(Why are you even pretending at this point? It’s not like you’re going to be able to get him to drop it. You’re an embarrassment. This is embarrassing.)
Isabeau sighs, leans forward, and takes your hands in his. He isn’t looking at you. “Siffrin… I need you to be honest with me.”You smother the part of your brain that begs you to run and never turn back.“I can’t—I can’t do this. I need to be able to trust you to tell me if there’s a problem, or if you’re hurting, or if you’re just… tired, or bored or whatever. I—” he falters, trying to find the words, “—I can’t sit here while you try to, like. Perform for me, or something. I have to be able to trust you. And I want you to feel like you can trust me.”He lifts his head, eyes locked on yours, and pleads, “I’m asking you to trust me.”
(This isn’t how this was supposed to go.)
You close your eye and force yourself to breathe. In, hold, out, repeat. Let the air carry some of the fear away from you. You look away. “I… I do trust you.” “Then why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?” he asks. You can’t hear any judgement in the question, just… worry.
(Because you’re an idiot who always chooses the wrong dialogue option. Because you can’t handle the thought of, stars forbid, mildly disappointing him. Because you want to be good. You want to be good for the only person who has ever held your heart, sharp edges and all.)
You exhale shakily. “I want to be better about talking to you, I do. I… I’m trying. But I just. Can’t, sometimes. Like… rationally, logically, I know nothing bad is going to happen if I tell you the truth. I know that! But… I—I keep thinking, ‘What if this time, you realize how exhausting I am? What if I hurt you? What if you hate me? What if…”
(You can’t say it. You have to say it. It’s going to kill you either way.)
“...what if this is what makes you leave me?”He makes a noise like he’s had the air sucked out of his lungs. You feel like your heart is being crushed into stardust.Not even half a year ago, this conversation would’ve ended the second you slipped up. You would’ve had another shot at convincing him you’re fine. You wouldn’t need to admit all the disgusting feelings tearing their way through your skull right now. You could read your lines as many times as you wanted, run in circles within circles until your legs gave out.For a moment, neither of you speaks. In the quiet, you hear the wind whistle through the night. The rustling of leaves, the chirring of cicadas, the bowing of a distant bard’s fiddle. The world moves on despite how you swear you’ve been frozen in time.And then, gently, Isa takes your hand in his. “...That must be lonely,” he murmurs.
(It is.)
You nod and savor the feeling of his skin. Your face is warm.He continues, words hushed: “I won’t pretend I totally understand, or act like anything I say right now can fully convince you otherwise. But… I promise you, you aren’t exhausting, and you won’t hurt me, and I could never hate you, and,” he squeezes your joined hands for emphasis, “I’m not going anywhere, Sif. Not if I have anything to say about it.”…It’s not like you didn’t know that, deep down. You’d still be in Dormont if that were the case.That doesn’t mean you don’t appreciate hearing it said out loud.You want to kiss him. You want to cry. You want to scream and cling to his outstretched arms, beg him to hold you against his chest, let you hear the blood coursing through him. You want and want and want. But you can’t have it all, so you settle for the first option.As you lean forward to press your lips to his temple, you hope it tells him what you can’t.“I love you.”Isabeau cups your cheek, giving you the soft little smile he saves for you. “I know. I love you too.”You know.You lean in, tilting your head to avoid bumping your noses, and kiss him. It’s not desperate, or hot, or rough with passion. It’s small, just lips meeting lips. You’ve never felt more wanted.When you break away, you start to laugh. Quietly at first, then uproariously, unable to restrain yourself as you drop your head against Isa’s shoulder and try to compose yourself again.He snorts at your outburst. “What’s so funny?”You tip back and wipe a tear away, snickering, “Nothing! This is just… so not sexy, it’s ridiculous. We had the perfect setup and then my little fee-fees got in the way! It feels like a joke!”Isa puts on a stern expression and scolds, “Siffrin, your ling-lings are not a joke! No matter how hot previous events may have been!” He’s struggling to keep a straight face.You roll your eye fondly. “Yeah, yeah, I know, you don’t need to—” you hesitate, squinting suddenly. “Sex-ture me…? …Like lecture? Is that anything?”After a second of visible conflict, his serious mask cracks and he bursts into a laughing fit of his own. You join in, helpless against the siren song of a truly horrific pun.Through tears, he chokes out, “N-NO!!! Sex-ture is nothing!!!!! That’s nothing, Sif!!!!!!”“Hehe, I don’t know, Isa… you’re acting like it was preeeetty funny!” You tap your finger against your chin in mock disbelief.He holds a hand to his chest and falls back on a pillow. “You wound me… you wound my delicate maiden’s heart… implying I would ever find a pun of such low caliber humorous!!! Now… I must die. Blergh…”With all the theatrics of a prima donna, his head rolls to the side and lets his tongue fall out of his mouth. If he had your expert direction, he might just have what it takes to make it big in the Vaugardian theater scene.But you can’t let him show you up! You sniffle, collapse onto his chest, and cry, “No! How could I… killing my beloved Isabeau with a stray joke? Surely, I deserve naught but the most abhorrent of punishments, a seven-course meal consisting of nothing but potatoes and potato-derived dishes!!!” You shake your fist in the air for good measure.From his deathbed, Isa stifles a laugh. He’s a terrible dead person. Wait… didn’t he fake die earlier? Wow, reusing material. That’s cheap.Regardless, you sit back up to announce: “And… scene.” You take as deep a bow as you physically can from this position.He pushes himself up from the bed and shakes his head in awe. “Sif. Siffrin. Siffarooni. That was some of the best acting I have ever seen. I think you might be better than every actor in Poteria combined! Clap clap clap!”You giggle. “Thank you, dear audience member! I try my best!”Isabeau gives you a polite round of applause beyond just saying the word ‘clap’ out loud. You pretend not to adore it.With the dramatics over with, you realize you’re still sat in his lap. It’s a comfortable seat, all things considered, but it only serves to remind you of your mission. You’ve come too far to let a micro-freak-out compromise things!“So… I um. I probably owe you an explanation,” you confess.His eyebrows raise in surprise. “Right! Yeah, I got a little distracted, heh! But yes that is definitely something we need to talk about.”You scratch your neck and look pointedly away. “Before I got all crazy, I uh… I thought of something I didn’t like.”“Oh… o-okay? Why didn’t you mention—” he pauses, evidently replaying your previous conversation, “—ah. I see.”“Yup.”“...Could you, um… could you tell me what you were worried was gonna happen? If you said what made you uncomfortable? Maybe I can reassure you!”You move to bite at your nails, but Isa rests a hand on yours to stop the motion. It’s a thoughtful gesture. You breathe deeply and steel your nerves.“It's just—it’s kinda weird. And I was worried you’d be… disappointed? Upset? Because it’s pretty important if we’re gonna have sex. And I was like, ‘Oh I’m probably working myself up over nothing! It’s probably fine, if I really don’t like it I’ll just zone out or something.’”He pulls a face like you’ve said something absurd.…Did you? Was that strange? You haven’t always been the best at gauging this sorta thing in the past.Like he’s reading your mind, he replies, “Sif, I… okay. Okay. Listen, I don’t care how weird it is! And I won’t be disappointed, or upset, or angry, or sad, or anything, no matter what! Whatever it is, I promise we can work around it and find a way to make both of us comfortable. And on that note,” he grabs your shoulders and shakes you lightly, “You have got to stop the self-sacrificing thing!! Did you think I was kidding earlier? You know, when I explicitly said don’t do anything you don’t want to do???”You shake your head, “N-no! I just… didn’t think it was worth kicking up a fuss over.”“Siffrin.”“What???”He just groans. “We have got to get you in therapy.”You scoff. Therapy-schmerapy! You don’t need someone to tell you what’s wrong with you when you’re perfectly capable of doing that yourself.“I’m siccing M’dame Odile on you,” he promises.Your eye widens in fear. “No that’s fine I’m sure therapy is super awesome and cool and Odile doesn’t need to get involved at all!”His mouth quirks up in a smug grin. He’s as evil as ever, it would appear. “Anyway, yeah. I promise I won’t be disappointed.”You can’t help but ask, “...Super-duper promise?”Eyes glinting with conviction, he nods. “Super-duper promise.”Alright. No more running. Even if you’d really like to book it to the next town over.“Okay. Okay. Okay. …I, um. I don’t want—I kinda—blinding words.” You clench your fists in frustration.
(Just spit it out!)
You form the words in your mouth, grit your teeth, and force out, “I don’t want you to touch me down there. Or take my underwear off.”…“Oh!!! Sure, no problem!”
(Huh?)
“Wait, that’s it?” You try not to sound too surprised.He cocks his head to the side. “Did you want a bigger reaction? ‘Cuz I can definitely go bigger. How’s this?” he clears his throat and exclaims, “Of course, Siffrin! It would be my greatest honor!”Despite yourself, you chuckle a little. Isabeau continues, “I can think of no oath I should be more proud to keep. Your request shall ne’er be defied!” He holds his palm to his heart.“I swear, you’re even more dramatic than I am.”“I learned from the best.” He pokes your cheek and you stick your tongue out at him.After a beat, your mask slips again. Confused, you ask, “Seriously though… are you sure it’s fine? Didn’t you want both of us to, um… y’know. So won’t it be worse if you can’t touch me?”“Well for starters,” he assures, “ I am one hundred and ten percent sure it’s fine! I was just throwing things out there, honestly. I didn’t have anything concrete planned, so! No plans have been spoiled! And there’s more than one way to have sex, y’know. No such thing as ‘worse’ as long as we’re both having a good time.”“Oh. Um. Yeah, I guess that’s true?”“It is!!! ‘Cuz listen, Sif, I want to make this fun for you too! If you’re enjoying yourself, I’ll enjoy myself. That’s really the only thing that matters to me.”“...Is it actually that simple?”He giggles, “Last time I checked, yeah!”“Oh. Um… alright. If you say that’s how it is, then—then that’s how it is. I believe you.”You hate how insecure you sound right now. Isabeau doesn’t seem particularly bothered, though, so that’s nice.He beams. “I’m happy to hear it, Sif.”It’s not like he’s ever steered you wrong before. You trust him more than you thought you could trust someone. If he thinks he’ll be alright, you’re going to take him at his word. You just hope you aren’t making a mistake.After a moment, you see a question forming on his face. “I, um, I’m just gonna preface this by saying that you don’t have to explain anything if you don’t want to, and I’ll take it seriously no matter what. But… can I ask why? I just don’t want to accidentally do something or say something and make things weird, like… mid-whatever-happens-next.”It’s obvious he’s genuinely concerned, but you can hear the thinly-veiled curiosity behind his words. You choose to ignore it—out of the kindness of your heart, of course—but it gives you pause.“That’s… a good question, actually. I don’t really know? Just… when I imagine you seeing my, uh. My dick. And touching it, doing things to it… I get kinda freaked out.”He hums thoughtfully. “I get that. When I was younger, sometimes I felt like… like my body wasn’t really mine. I’d look in the mirror and there’d just be this… distance. Like, a disconnect between who I was and the body I was stuck in. So the thought of other people seeing me naked… woof! It made my skin crawl.” Then, he smirks and adds, “For like, a month after I Changed, though, I wore the tiniest clothes I could find. I had to show off all the work I put into these muscles!” He flexes his arms for emphasis, and you snort at his eager demonstration.
(Is that how you feel?)
You take a second, mulling it over, and find that something about his story resonates with you.“I think there’s a disconnect for me too.”“Tell me about it.”Your face scrunches in concentration as you try to string your incoherent thoughts into something comprehensible. “I don’t think it’s for the same reason? Like. I don’t want to be different, my dick’s just kinda odd to me. Alien. Like it’s something someone glued on and now I just live with it.”He makes a contemplative noise and asks, “Do you like having it?”“Sometimes. It’s useful when you travel as much as we do, and I, um. I like jerking off even though I don’t do it very often. The rest of the time, it’s just kinda weird.”“Weird?” he probes, cocking an eyebrow. There’s something like amusement in his voice.You try not to grin, and then fail at not grinning. “Yes, Isabeau, weird. All penises are weird. That’s, like, the universal truth about penises,” you assert.He cackles, the bluntness of your words catching him off guard. His brows furrow in thought as he recovers. After a moment of deliberation, he takes your hand, thumb drawing lines across your knuckles. His ears are tinged grey.“Okay, okay, um. Can I ask a followup question? I-it’s relevant to what we’re talking about.”You hesitantly reply, “Yes?”He’s starting to sweat again. “Would you… um. Would you say that you dislike penises?”
(Ohhhh, you see where this is going.)
“Eh, I could take ‘em or leave ‘em.”You watch Isa’s hopes and dreams shatter into a million horny pieces. It almost makes you feel bad! Almost.“Buuuuut… if there were, oh, I don’t know… a handsome, intelligent, kindhearted hero here, I might say something else. You wouldn’t happen to know anyone like that, would you?” You smirk and lean closer.“OH!” he squeaks, cheeks burning, “Yeah! I—I could probably introduce you.”His breathing quickens. You cup his face in your hands and feel him reach around your hips to pull you against him; his eyes are dark with want, falling to your lips like they’ve been magnetized.You’d like nothing more than to savor the desperation in his gaze, but you should follow up on something first. For his sake.That doesn’t mean you can’t wind him up some more, though.You slide a hand to the back of his head and weave your fingers through his hair—not tugging, just resting on his crown. The sensation makes Isa shudder underneath you and, more like a dog than a man, he wets his lips in anticipation. You let him draw you in, closer, closer, even closer, until you’re practically breathing his air.(You really hope he likes this.)In an instant, your grip strengthens and pulls firmly down, forcefully angling his head toward the ceiling. As you steal the kiss away from him, you graze your lips over his jaw and lick a line down his neck.“Hnngh—ahh, S-Sif!” he cries, voice cracking on your name. Stars, he makes such sweet sounds.You raise your mouth to his ear and purr, “Aren’t you forgetting something? Don’t we need a safeword?”He shivers as your breath hits his skin, goosebumps prickling their way across his flesh. You think you’re going to break him.“Hah, y-yeah,” he whimpers, “that’s. That’s… yeah. Mhm.”Scratch that, you’re definitely going to break him.“Come on, Isa, what’s it going to be?”You tighten your hold and let his whine wash over you. It’s pathetic, and delicious, and Universe knows you love it. Your free hand smooths over the curves of his chest and settles at his waist, anchoring you to him.He snakes a hand around your midriff while the other clutches at your shoulder, compressing you further together. There’s no thought in the motion beyond getting as close as physically possible; flesh against flesh, soul against soul.It’s only now, as he tries to crush your body into his, that you feel something firm press up from below you. You tense reflexively and Isabeau freezes in your arms.
(Oh stars. Thaaaaat’s… wow!)
“Isa?” Your hand falls from his hair.He hides his face in the crook of your neck and squeals, “I’m really sorry Siffrin I just got super into it and I’ve been trying so hard to control myself but when you were grabbing me like that I just couldn’t—”Your cheeks flare with heat. Sheepishly, you interrupt: “—Isabeau! It’s okay! I-I don’t mind.”His breath catches, and then he picks his head up to look at you, attention fixed on your eye. The expression he’s wearing is nervous but calculating. You watch something click in his mind.“Vaugarde.”Your head tilts in confusion. “...What?”“For the safeword. It’s easy to remember and we can say it quickly.” He glances away.You smirk in amusement and prod, “Vaugarde? Real creative, Isa.”“I-I’m having a little trouble concentrating, if you can believe it!”That certainly tracks. You bat your eyelashes at him and murmur, “Well Vaugarde works for me, gorgeous,” Just as you’d expected, the compliment makes him darken further. What you hadn’t expected, though, was the sudden pressure against your ass as Isa throbs beneath his clothes. Clearly mortified, he buries his face in your neck and mumbles something about dying from embarrassment.It’s an interesting sensation. You’re not quite sure how you feel about it yet, but you make the decision to test something out.Before you can second guess yourself, you rub yourself against his bulge, just enough to make some friction. Instantly, Isa throws his head back with an obscene moan; without the pillows muffling him, the sound carries through the room like music. He claps a palm to his mouth, eyes wide.You look up at him in equal parts surprise and delight. “Oh, you really liked that, huh?”He nods enthusiastically, still holding his mouth shut.That’s enough encouragement for you, but you stop to ask, “What’s with the hand?”“...I just don’t wanna be too loud,” he admits.Well that won’t do.You reach up and peel his fingers away, instead placing them on your waist. He’s speechless as you lean in to whisper, “Nobody’s listening except me, Isa, and I want to hear all the pretty little noises you make.”Breath hitching, his cock pulses under your weight. He doesn’t say anything, just nods again, eyes half-lidded and dazed. You rock against him and grin when he groans, loud and filthy.Your hands move of their own volition and grab at his hair to drag him into another kiss. He whines into your mouth, the sound vibrating your skull, turning your brain to mush. You can feel him getting harder, pressing into your rear, so you move your hips in an attempt to stimulate him further.Isa whimpers at the sensation. He nips at your lip, lavishes your mouth with his tongue, and then breaks away to move to your neck. There’s a moment where he pauses, stuck in his head, before licking at the sensitive flesh beneath your jaw. The feeling of his teeth digging into your throat catches you off guard, and you cry out in startled pleasure. “I-Isa… that’s—stars, that’s good,” you moan. The words are breathy, edges fuzzy and slurred.Like it has when you’ve complimented him, his dick jerks at the praise. Huh. Does he… like it when you praise him, then?If that’s the case, you’re more than happy to indulge him. You did promise to only say nice things back at the House, after all.His arms tighten their hold on you and pull you close, closer, as close as you can physically get.With a grunt, he thrusts his pelvis up, grinding against the soft give of your ass. He sinks down and ruts again, and again, and again, groaning into you with each subsequent motion. You cling to him, roughly tugging the roots of his hair.
(Stars stars stars stars stars stars st—)
The role reversal has you swooning. The way he laps at each new bite leaves your head spinning, your mind hazy, your heart racing. You feel a heat building in your crotch and—for once—you completely understand why. With every breath, you shower him in the praise you know he’s so desperate for.You feel his movements getting harsher, more frenzied, and you can tell he’s getting frustrated at your turtleneck’s collar. There’s not enough skin.Gasping, you drag his head away from your throat to demand, “We… we need to get naked. Now.”His hands are at your hem before you can even finish talking. He looks up at you silently, a question in his eyes. You hesitate, but nod and raise your arms above your head, to which he practically rips the sweater off of you and throws it against the wall.Without the fabric covering your torso, you feel your skin prickle in the cool evening air. Fortunately, Isabeau doubles as your boyfriend and a walking furnace, so you aren’t worried about getting cold any time soon.What you are worried about are the numerous scars littering your body. You can’t even remember how you got most of them, but they still make you grimace in the mirror. And that’s not even mentioning the scars you ‘picked up’ in the house.Before you even have the chance to feel bad about them, though, Isa’s mouth is back on your neck. Without the turtleneck blocking him, he leaves an array of wet, rapidly darkening bruises from your collar to your shoulder.This is by far the most intense touch you’ve ever felt. It’s overwhelming. All-consuming. Like you’re going to fall apart at the seams. Distantly, it scares you how badly you want it.The prospect of being held like this would’ve made you laugh a few months ago. You don’t do this! No one wants to do this to you!…And yet, Isa embraces you like you’re going to fly away if he doesn’t. His hands are clasped around your stomach while he takes you in his teeth and stamps proof of his yearning on your skin.Maybe you can have this. Someone who loves you like this.You lean down to him and rasp, “Isa, come on. You too.”He only eases away from you after he leaves an especially deep bruise right above your heart. When his face comes into view, you feel your briefs strain at how wrecked he looks.His mouth, plump and wine-dark, glistens from how sloppily he’s been licking at you. He’s panting like he ran a marathon; he’s sweating like it too, moisture gathering at his forehead, collecting on his clavicle. His eyes are practically lightless with how dilated his pupils are right now. Your grip in his hair certainly hasn’t helped his composure—it’s wild, unruly from how hard you’ve been clutching it. The sight of your hickeys marring his throat leaves you lightheaded.
(Universe save you.)
To be fair, you can’t imagine you look any tidier. You feel like you’ve been thrown into a hurricane.He lifts his arms for you.It’s hard to keep yourself from kissing him stupid, but you manage to restrain yourself long enough to grab his tank top and drag it off of him. You let yourself look, not even trying to disguise the lust in your eye. Whatever he sees on your face makes his dick twitch against you.Your gaze wanders from his face to his chest, lingering on the swell of his pecs and the crescent scars below. You venture further down, enjoying the give of his belly where you’ve rested your hand, and recall a thought you had earlier.“Isa, I really want to take off your pants,” you prompt, “and… you can take mine off too, if you want.”He cries in relief, “Ohhh thank you, Sif, thank you, thank you, thank you… I didn’t wanna push you but I’m so turned on right now I think I’m gonna go crazy if I don’t do anything about it.”“If this is you going crazy, I need to do this to you all the time.” You’re mostly joking, but stars, you love seeing him like this.The comment makes him throb.With a smirk, you kiss his cheek and roll off of his lap. He scrambles to kick his pajama bottoms off, but you lightly hold his wrist to stop him. There’s a moment where he looks at you like you’ve just kicked a puppy, but as he realizes what you’re about to do, he flushes deeper and lets you move between his legs.You grab his waistband and, slowly, intentionally teasing him, you pull it down and past his knees. The second it passes over his bulge, your vision catches on the swath of damp, shiny cotton where his tip presses against his boxers. You feel yourself start to salivate.Isa bends his knees and you’re able to tug his bottoms off entirely. He shifts to sit in front of you, looking longingly into your eye.“Are you still cool with this?”“Feeling you up or getting undressed?”Shyly, he replies, “Mostly the latter. But the former too, now that you mention it.”You don’t even have to think about it. “Yes to both, and double yes to the first one.”A bead of precum leaks through his boxers. He swallows and, only slightly dazedly, nods. You let him shuffle into your space as he reaches for your fly. His movements are uncertain at first, but you guide his hand to the buttons and he undoes them quickly.You lean against him and he pulls your pants over your hips, taking his time as his hands slide against your skin. You lift up your legs one at a time, and then you’re just as naked as he is.You feel decidedly exposed. You drum your fingers against your thighs in discomfort, trying to ignore the tent in your underwear.“Can I touch you?” he asks softly.“...Yeah. Yes. Just, um… not,” you gesture to your crotch, “here.”He smiles at you, and despite the anxiety curling in your stomach, you feel put at ease. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Sif.”You smile back. He inches forward, his knees bumping against yours, and then he reaches for your waist to draw you closer. The heat radiating from his body is enough to fend off the chill creeping up your spine, and without meaning to, you fall into him.Isabeau catches you easily. You feel yourself melt in his warmth, your muscles relaxing as you sink further into his embrace. He leans down and kisses you, gently at first, then more intensely. He kisses you like you’re water in a desert, like you’re cool air in a wildfire. You feel faint in the face of his desire.His hands roam across your skin, calloused and clammy and kind, holding you with a tenderness that makes your heart leap into your throat. You glide your fingers over his chest, over his scars—such beautiful things—and up to graze his nipples. He keens at the stimulation, his breath tickling your cheek.You cradle his face in one palm and leave the other to knead at his pec. The sensation makes him shudder, leaning his weight further into you, and you fight back a grin at the way his legs quiver at the motion.“Lean back,” you breathe. You pull away from the kiss; he whines, but lets you push him backwards until he’s sitting against the headboard.You crawl between his legs, quietly awed at how muscular they are, and rest between them. Your eye flits between his bulge and his face. He’s flushed down to his chest, mouth agape as he tries to catch his breath; when he nods, you shoot him a warm grin.It’s now or never, huh?You trail a hand up his leg and snicker when his hair raises in goosebumps. He glares at you, but you can tell there’s nothing to it. The way he keeps looking at your fingers—long and slender, suited for delicate work—inspires an entirely unfounded confidence within you.When you get to the thin cotton of his boxers, Isabeau twitches in anticipation. His thighs tense, breath stuttering, and you swear he’s sweating more than usual, which would be kinda gross if you weren’t so into it. He’s responding this way because of you. You’re the one getting him this flustered. The revelation is enough to make your head spin.“P-please, Sif… please. I need you,” he whimpers.Your cheeks blaze in response. There’s a growing wet spot in your briefs where you press against the fabric, aching at how desperate he sounds.
(He’s cute when he whines like that.)
“What do you need, Isa?”He grabs fistfuls of the sheets. “Need you to—to touch me. My cock. Please.”There’s your cue.Your fingers curl around his waistband and you pull it down, your stomach fluttering with a disorienting mix of enthusiasm and nervousness. You find that the trail you’d taken such keen interest in earlier leads to a thatch of thick, dark hair; when you drag the boxers past his hips, he springs out into the evening air.You make the decision to strip him of his underwear entirely, so you shuffle around to pull them down and off his legs, throwing them roughly behind you.As you take in the image in front of you, you feel your blood travel very quickly to two very different places. Your face is burning and you deliberately ignore the heat pooling in your crotch.The sheets are mussed from his antsy squirming. One hand is raised to clutch at the headboard behind him, and the other is locked in a vice grip around the side of the bed. He’s biting his lips, worrying at them with his teeth; they’re the most gorgeous plum-dark shade you’ve ever seen. He looks at you and you see yourself mirrored in him. Creatures of hunger.His shaft is flushed dark in the dim light, the head just barely peeking out from his foreskin. It’s decently large—thick, for sure—and you find yourself intimidated, curious, and excited all at once. It quivers under your attention, and you watch a drop of precum well at the tip, catching the light like a prism.Your tongue flicks out to wet your lips. You try to speak but only manage to stammer, “W-woah.”
(‘Woah’? Stars, you’re awfully eloquent tonight.)
The tension lifts as Isa barks out a laugh. You can see the muscles tense in his stomach, tight with the sudden levity. He settles and you crack a smile, knocking a fist against his thigh. “What! Cut me some slack!”“I’m just glad you like the view,” he replies, eyes alight with smug satisfaction. You look away, your cheeks hot with embarrassment. “Keep acting that way and you’re gonna have to get yourself off,” you pout.He gasps and leans forward to grab your arm, drawing your focus back to his face as he pleads, “Nononononono I didn’t mean it!!! I’ll be good, Sif, I promise!”Isabeau’s begging isn’t serious, that much you can tell, but there’s an undercurrent of lust coursing through his words that sets your thoughts on fire. You ease him against the headboard again, greedily pawing at his muscles in the process.“Then spread your legs for me, pretty boy.”His breath catches and he darkens as he complies. It’s beautiful, you think, the way his thighs part. The tremor of his quads while he looks into your eye. There’s a double purpose in the motion; it gives you a space to slot yourself into, and simultaneously exposes the most private parts of him to you. He thrusts himself out as if asking for your attention.You reach out and, without meaning to, hesitate. You take a deep breath in to collect yourself.And then you wrap a careful hand around Isa’s cock. It’s hot against your skin, soft at a touch but rock solid when you let your grasp tighten slightly. He groans, the sound rumbling through his chest, and locks fingers with your other hand.“...How’s that feel?”“Ahhh—that’s—that’s great, Sif,” he breathes.You smirk, reveling in the way he squirms beneath you. You lazily slide your hand up and down, watching his foreskin glide over the head. The movement makes him whine, choked and heady with bliss.
(You want to devour him.)
He whimpers, “S-Sif, you’re—ohh Change….”“That good, huh?” you prod, gently squeezing your hand. You can’t help preening when he grunts, bucking into the touch slightly.More precum leaks from his tip and you let your thumb swirl over it; you marvel at how responsive he is. Everything you do makes him twitch, or moan, or swear, or shiver… it’s like you’re standing at a ship’s helm, guiding it through raging seas.Catching his eye, you purr, “You’re so pretty like this, Isa. So good for me, so strong, so handsome.” The words come as naturally as breathing. He throbs, glazing your fingers in another coat of his arousal.You use the pad of your thumb, slick from how turned on he is, to massage his head’s sensitive underside. Almost immediately, he lets out a strangled moan and grips the sheets like they’re the only things tethering him to the ground. You make a mental note of his reaction and continue stroking him.“Sif, I’m—I’m getting close,” he pants.
(Wait, already? But you were just getting the hang of this!)
Your hand slows, partially out of shock, partially because you don’t want this to end just yet. You strengthen your grip, and then something incredible happens.Isa’s shaft pulses suddenly, dark and glistening, and he almost sobs as you unintentionally snatch the pleasure away from him. More pre streams from his tip, spilling onto your hand in thick rivulets.He pleads, “Oh Change, I—hngh—S-Sif, please, please, please…”
(He’s so beautiful right now, begging you for relief.)
It hadn’t occurred to you that you could just… stop. Stall his orgasm. But now that you know you can, you want nothing more than to see him beg some more. It’s sick, but you can’t find it in yourself to care.“Please what, Isa?” you tease.“P-pleeeaaase let me cum, I can’t—I can't take it Sif… please please please please pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease—”You interrupt by withdrawing your other hand and gingerly cupping his balls, rolling them experimentally in your palm. The fondling, coupled with your steady pressure on his cock, makes him bite his lip to stifle the wanton cry that tears its way from his throat.The weight of your desire falls like a boulder on your skull. You try to memorize Isabeau’s face in this moment; his eyes glassy with want, cheeks burning dark, mouth ever so slightly agape as he draws shallow, ragged breaths in and out of his lungs. He’s drooling, but you don’t think he’s noticed just yet. His gaze is locked on yours, meeting your eye as if to say, ‘Please, take me. Take all of me. I am just as starved as you are.’Your strokes quicken as the intensity of his longing settles in your chest. You try to focus as much of your attention on the rhythmic up-and-down of your left hand and the juggling of your right as you can, but it’s hard to keep your composure when the sweetest, sexiest, most incredible man you’ve ever met is looking at you like you’re the Change God made flesh.You can feel your motions speeding up even further and force yourself to pull back—you want to savor this for as long as you can.Isa, frenzied at the slight loss of stimulation, bears down on the bed and ruts into your touch. You feel your face warm as he uses your hand like a cocksleeve, grunting with the strain of his rapid thrusting. You didn’t imagine sex like this, but your imagination could never compare to the real deal anyway. The sight of his thighs and stomach tensing as he fucks your grip is a top contender for one of the best things to ever happen to you.“Hah, I—I’m about t-to cum,” he husks out between heavy breaths.Stars—in your lust-drunk daydream, you’d forgotten that you were trying to draw this out a little longer. Remembering his reaction to flipping him, an idea springs to mind.“Isa,” you start, voice firm. “Stay. Down.” With the strength of someone many times your size, you set your right hand on the crest of his hip and pin him to the mattress.Again, he groans as his climax slips away from him, his cock trembling in your hand. You can’t be sure, but you think he responded more intensely to that than the first time you did it. Something to keep in mind then!You look to his face and, unexpectedly, see tears welling up at the corners of his eyes. You feel your heart drop into your stomach.
(STARS. You stepped in it he doesn’t like this he hates you he hates you he—)
Isa must see the anxiety in your expression, because he pulls himself together enough to crack a small smile and take your hand from where it rests on his hip, squeezing it softly.“H-hey, ‘m alright, Sif. There’s a safeword, remember?”Right, you’d forgotten it was for both of you. You feel the trepidation starting to dissipate, and you squeeze his hand back. “Yeah, um. Just got a little worried is all,” you reply.His smile widens as he quips, “I’m gonna lose it if you edge me again, though.”You laugh despite the nervousness clinging to your ribs. “Got it, boss!”He settles deeper into the pillows at his back, and you take that as a sign to progress the scene.You shuffle closer. Bumping your knees against the inside of his thighs, your hand redoubles its efforts, jerking his dick in long strokes that linger around the head. The half-lidded daze he’d been lost in returns more with each passing second; you’re almost impressed at how quickly he can get back into it, but as your briefs strain to contain your growing erection, you register that you’re just as aroused as he is.Maybe not quite as aroused. Isa’s hand on yours clenches and he doesn’t even need to speak for you to catch that he’s getting close again. It looks like he’s trying to say something, but all he can manage is a pitiful whine as he holds tight to your joined hands. You should probably reassure him that you won’t be torturing him any more.
(Not tonight, anyway.)
“It’s alright,” you murmur, rubbing circles on the back of his palm, “you can cum, Isa.”His core tenses suddenly as he growls, ”Sif, ohh fuuuck, I—S-Siffrin—”—and then, you feel him swell in your grip, so much that you can feel his heart racing through the contact. Arching his back, he throbs in your hand; he chokes out a moan as his eyes squeeze shut in pleasure. Thick ropes of pearly cum erupt from his cock, splattering his stomach and chest, and a stray shot catches him on the cheek. As his orgasm peters out, the last of his load dribbles onto your hand.He falls back to the bed with a groan, body tensing in the aftershocks of his climax. His fingers are still intertwined with yours.You’re struck speechless. Your voice only returns after you feel his erection start to soften in your grasp; gently, you let it drop to his belly.“Stars… that was… stars. Do—do you normally cum that much?” you ask, astonishment clear in your voice.Isabeau throws his free hand over his face and laughs heartily. “Definitely not. I was just… suuuper turned on, like, all night. By the time you were actually jerking me off I was already at my limit, and then you edged me! I’m shocked I didn’t hit the headboard, honestly.”You grin. It’s nice to hear you didn’t mess things up too badly, the various hangups of the evening notwithstanding.His cum is quickly cooling down on your hand. You don’t really have anything to dry it off with right now (you’ve already done enough damage to the linens), so you bring your fingers to your lips and lick them clean. It’s a familiar timesaver, so you don’t think twice about it until you remember whose cum you’re tasting right now.Regardless, it’s fairly pleasant. Hardly bitter. You think you prefer it to yours, if you had to choose.It’s only after you’ve almost finished swirling your blinding hand in your mouth that you realize Isa’s been watching you, eyes wide, blushed down to his collarbone. You swear you see his dick twitch.“Uh—sorry, I just—I was cleaning up a little, heh! Um…” you trail off, watching him with a sheepish smile.He opens and shuts his mouth a few times before coming up with something to say. “You—y-you didn’t have to—there are towels in the bathroom, y’know? I mean don’t get me wrong that was—I mean you’re always hot but that… that was reeeaally fuckin’ sexy, Sif.”You flush in a mix of embarrassment and bashful appreciation. You need to go splash some water on your face before you catch fire.“W-well speaking of, I’m gonna go grab something to clean you up.”His head flops back onto the pillow and he gives you a thumbs up. You hop out of the bed and almost trip on his pajama bottoms, but manage to catch yourself in time. You pointedly ignore the quiet giggling you hear behind you and rush to grab a towel. Nabbing one from the rack, you quickly wet a corner with some hot water and walk back to the bed, only to see that Isa hasn’t moved a muscle.“Tired?”“Exhausted. You were way more into that than I thought you’d be,” he chuckles.You plop down next to him and use the dry part of the towel to wipe off the majority of his cum, using the corner to scrub away any dried residue. This is nice. You like taking care of him like this. He trails a hand up and down your arm, a quiet reminder of his presence.You pipe up as you clean his stomach, “It was fun! I mean once we got past the whole feelings talky-talk part, anyway.”He laughs, “Ha! Yeah, that was a little rough! But I’m glad we had that conversation tonight and not like… a year from now. Not that you’d ever manage to hide it from me for more than a few minutes, anyway.”“Hey! I could too!” you retort. You know he’s right, but you have your pride as a thespian on the line!“Pfft, sure bud. You’re the best actor I know,” he teases.You blow a raspberry at him. “And the only actor you know, so I win Best Actor by default.”Isa nods sagely. “Very true!”When you work your way up to his face, an idea strikes you. You lean in as if to inspect his cheek, only to lick a stripe up it instead. Salty!“S-Sif!” he gasps, astounded.You snicker, “See, that’s why I got so into it! You’re so responsive! When you were trying to be quiet I was like, ‘No! Isabeau is being so cruel! How could he!’” You smush the towel against his face to actually clean him up.“So what I’m hearing is that if I’d kept my mouth shut the entire time, you wouldn’t have been so keen on torture? Thanks for the tip!” he replies.You turn his face to yours and stare him dead in the eyes. “Isa, there isn’t anything in the entire Universe that could’ve kept me from toying with you like I did. Even if you didn’t make a single sound, you’d still be too much fun to torment. I’m sorry, Isabeau, but you have adorable-itis. And it’s terminal.”He stares back. You both stare at each other.And then he throws himself against your chest, crying, “But I have so much to live for, whatever will I do now!!!”You giggle and nudge him off of you. “You could probably start by putting your pajamas back on, Mr. Muscles, unless you wanted to—” a pun is on your tongue before you know it, your face screwing up in a smirk, “—sleep in the buff.”Isa barks out a laugh at that, and then admits, “Yeaaahh, I’d shower again if I weren’t so tired, honestly. I think I sweat through the sheets?” He scooches away from where he’d been sitting and, lo and behold, the linens are dark with moisture.“Isa, with all due respect, you’d sweat if you were shirtless in a blizzard. I’d be more surprised if you hadn’t soaked them,” you tease.He puts a hand to his heart in mock offense. “How very dare you! I’m telling Bonnie to put potatoes in your boots again, hmph!”Deadpanning, you respond, “Noooo, anything but that…”The two of you fall into a comfortable silence as you stand to go change into your nightshirt while Isabeau pulls on some non-sweaty pajamas. That is, until he asks, “So… other than the serious part, did you enjoy it?”You pause and look at him in the mirror. “Yeah. Genuinely.”He shoots you a small smile. “What about it?” he prompts.“...Honestly?”“Honestly.”“And you won’t think I’m weird, or creepy or something?”“Definitely not.”You sigh, trying to gather your thoughts, “Uh, well—I mean… I liked getting to make you feel good. I really liked it. A-and it felt really nice when you were kissing my neck and holding me and stuff. Plus you make really pretty sounds when I touch you. And when you were like…” you stop, trying not to choke on your embarrassment, “...grinding against me, that, uh. That was really hot. And you were so pretty! I mean the whole time, I just couldn’t stop looking at you. I didn’t want to stop looking at you! I think that was my favorite part honestly, just… getting to see you like that.”After a second of silence, you turn back to see him watching you, face dark, smiling even wider.“What?”“Nothing,” he starts, “I was just thinking about how much I love you.”You blush furiously, “You’re such a sap.”“You love it though!”You stick your tongue out at him. “So did you enjoy it?”Isa clears his throat, visibly trying to act casual. “Yes! I—um. Yes, I had a lot of fun. That was… yeah. So much fun.”“Care to elaborate, dear poet?”He rubs the back of his neck, snorting, “I mean, what is there to say? You’re amazing, and handsome, and strong, and I love you a lot, and I liked getting to share an intimate moment with you. Simple as that!”You beat down an earnest thanks and, with all the swagger you can muster, taunt, “That’s cute and all, but I was mostly wondering what about it got your rocks off.”The way he sputters at you is everything you could’ve hoped for. “W-WHAT?? Siffrin—you—you can’t just! Ask!! That!!!!”“Hehe, sorry! I just wanted to see what you’d do.”“You’re sick. Potatoes in your boots and your pockets.”You snicker, but don’t rise to the bait. The joke’s on him anyway; Bonnie still owes you for sneaking them to the market to make breakfast-in-bed for Pétronille last week.Instead, you walk over to the closet to grab the spare sheets. Knowing Isa’s uniquely damp disposition, Mira worked her magic with the innkeep to grab you some extra linens. Stars guide that wonderful, wonderful girl.“Alright, help me change the bed and we can deal with the laundry tomorrow.”Isa makes an affirmative noise and the two of you make quick work of the chore.Then, he sidles up next to you and rumbles, “...It was, um. It was really sexy when you held me down. I was just really really horny and you were being mean and not letting me cum so I was getting a little overstimulated! But to be totally candid… I really enjoyed it. The edging. So… I hope that answered your question.”You look everywhere but Isabeau.“G-good to know!”“Oh wait—how’d you know I have a praise kink?” he asks.You chuckle. “What, like it’s a secret? I don’t know if you realize this, but when telling you what a good boy you are makes you leak like a faucet, it’s pretty easy to put the pieces together.”He goes quiet. You turn and find him staring at you, dark in the face.“Uh… Isa?”“C-could you say that again?”You squint, perplexed. “...Which part?”He glances away and awkwardly stammers, “The um. T-the first part. About. What you were telling me.”Realizing what he’s asking, a wolfish grin carves its way across your mouth. “Oh, when I called you a good boy?”He darkens three shades further. His hands busy themselves with the hem of his tank as he nods.You lean in and cup his cheek, mischief bleeding away into sincerity. “Isa, you were a very, very good boy tonight. And I’m glad you like hearing that, because I like saying it.”“A-aww… thanks,” he breathes, lips curving into a dopey smile. “You’re sweet, Sif.”You shrug, “I try. And… thank you for tonight.”Giggling, his eyes glint in the starlight. “Don’t mention it.”As you climb into bed, Isa’s hands find yours beneath the blankets. Something’s different now. Not better, or worse, just… different. Changed.There’s an itch at the back of your mind, a request you need to make. “Maybe… maybe next time,” you deliberately offer a next time, “you could tell me about some of the other stuff you like? And we could try more things out, if you wanted.”He beams. “Yeah, I’d like that! I’d like that a lot.”You beam back.From somewhere past the window, you hear the drone of summer cicadas. The faint scent of lavender floats in on the evening breeze, comfortingly sweet. You look out and see stars. No strange shades. No distant flashes of light.Just stars, and stars, and stars.