sworndevotion | karteria inbox

It is hard, and her body yearns for more or less, depending on the day. Some days, when the sun is brighter, she wants nothing more than to curl up and luxuriate, a new feeling that came upon her as her scales did. Others, the itching need to do something burns under her skin, and the moonlight is the dearest friend she has. It's a struggle, but it is maintained by the easy way that Dedue takes care of her, and recognises her moods better each day.

Breathless, content, she leans up, preening a little under his touch. It feels good, to have his hands on her, to lean close, seeking out more and more contact from him. Nuzzling into him, she wiggles as close as she can get, something warm in her chest flooding her body.

"Yes. I sleep better when we are together." It feels safer; she can let her guard down. "I will prepare tea when I feel like moving."

He hums a soft laugh as she snuggles up. Dedue expected to have no body heat once his corruption was complete... And that seemed to be true for a couple of weeks, making it difficult to work outside for any extended period. But then he had a strange episode of pain and losing consciousness, hearing a voice. Now there is a low-grade heat that emanates from him. He is unsure how it is produced... Perhaps magic, which seems to be the way his body is powered now.

"Good." He slowly turns on his side and wraps his arms around her, as gently as he can, trying not to cause her discomfort with how hard and heavy his body has become.

"There is no rush." He puts his nose in her hair, kissing her forehead softly.

There are no complaints from her about the size or shape of his body; this is who she is, and it is who her affection had grown for. Lauralae had accepted his changes far better than she had accepted her own, the rough scales, the cravings that possessed her, the new sensations of dual souls burning inside of her and making her feel on edge. Her teeth feel sharper, and when she looks at him, she wonders how he can tolerate the oddness of her.

It is part of his kindness, his devotion, the warmth that he has always shown her. Even at her worst, Dedue had accepted her and cared for her, and it is those memories that keep her grounded, centred, so content and happy in his arms. Lauralae cannot recall the last time she had felt such an easy peace inside her, when her mind had not warred with her and demanded more. Distance from her Patron and comfort here has eased her spirit.

His kiss makes her smile, and she wiggles up, leaning so that she can kiss his jaw. It seems hard to stop, but that is not unusual.

"You just wish to spend more time embracing me."

It had never occurred to Dedue not to accept her, and now it never will. No matter how she changes, he will be by her side. That's just who he is. He has made his commitment, and he will stick to it. The more he accepts that Dimitri is truly gone, the easier it is to let himself enjoy this, to let himself feel happy without chastising himself for betrayal.

He has accepted his own changes now, for the most part, and it helps that there are golden emblems embedded into the metal; the Duscur symbol on his neck just below his ear and on his chest, and on the other side of his chest, a lion's head. It feels right that his body represents his homeland and his liege, even now. He is grateful for that reminder of who he is.

His arms wrap a little tighter around her, his smile only growing as she kisses him and gets the closest to teasing that Lauralae ever does.

"You caught me. Do you think the chickens will be cross with me for delaying their breakfast?"

“If they will be cross with anyone, it will be me.”

The chickens rarely tolerated her, and it had only gotten worse the more snakelike she had become. With her scales and new tongue, she was certain she reminded them far too much of a natural predator, of someone who would steal in and consume them. She had no interest in their eggs or milk these days, but they simply did not believe her when she said so.

Drawn close, warm, she feels good, her fingers tracing the shape of his face absently. When she speaks, it’s almost as if she doesn’t realise the words coming out of her mouth, soft and gentle. Each sentence has a hiss to it now, as if she’s trying to speak common with a Draconic edge to it.

“You are very handsome,” her head tilts. “And you are warm. Do you know that it is difficult for me to leave you each morning?” Leaning in, their noses nudge. It feels too honest, and she glances away, unsure of herself, unsure of where the deep honesty came from. It might be too much.

"Ah... I am not helping you earn their affections." He's a saboteur... But it's hard to care at all when she looks at him like that. It's hard to feel like anything exists outside of this room, outside of the two of them.

Her soft voice is lovely, as always, and somehow the hissing only makes it more endearing.

Somehow, despite having no heart and no blood, her words make his face heat up in a blush.

"Is it?" He gazes at her, soft and molten. "I am afraid it's the same for me. I know there are things that need tending... But it is hard to part from you."

“It is not their affection that I seek most.”

Lauralae watches him from where she is wrapped in his arms, a lingering yearning making her want more. That isn’t unusual, both from her desire to sink her fangs into his flesh and for her need to be close to him, but some other instinct is prying into her mind and demanding more and more of her. It’s as if she cannot get enough of him, and each rumble of his low voice makes her want to hear more.

Fond, soft, she leans in, nuzzling at him, their noses brushing and her expression filled with a sweetness she would hide from anyone else. In the months since they met and the weeks since they ventured into this new relationship, she has let her guard down more with him. Her faith is that he will not harm her for it, nor take advantage.

Absently, her mouth brushes his.

“I would keep you with me the entire morning.” Lauralae glances away, shy. “I know there is work to do, and we will do it. I… I am not sure what is causing this.” The neediness, the way to cuddle into him, to taste his mouth and hold herself in his arms.

"I come above the chickens? That is quite an honour."

It is easy to murmur these nothings into her, cozy in bed like this, when normally such flirting would be foreign and unfathomable to him.

He meets her lips with his own, closing his eyes and pressing his adoration into them.

"It is natural," he assures. "To desire closeness with someone you care for. Especially with our imprint." He doesn't find it strange at all, having felt similarly for Dimitri in the past, but he is not used to indulging in it so fulsomely.

"I am here to provide anything you might desire," he adds.

The imprint they share has certainly helped her ease at growing closer to him, even if it had worried her to begin with. Lauralae had been caught up in the strange fear that whatever they felt for one another was just the imprint itself, that their true feelings were not as deep or gentle, and it had been hard to work through. Some doubts linger, but she thinks that would always be so.

Feeling unworthy of Dedue is something she thinks she will be battling for some time, the fear that he will realise what monster he has in his dead will darken his mind. It is not present in her thoughts now, as close as they are, but they prey on her when she is alone.

Shoving it all aside, she adjusts her weight, a thin arm wrapping around his shoulders as she leans into the kiss again, feeling warm all over, decadent. The snakelike parts of her come out more in the morning, she finds, as if the Spectral has gone to sleep, and it makes her woefully needy.

“All that I desire is you, Dedue.”

Hopefully that fear will pass with time, as she continues to show herself to him and he continues not to turn away. He cannot fathom thinking of her as a monster, not ever. After all, he never thought of Dimitri that way, no matter how many people he killed in cold blood, how many people likened him to a beast.

He is devoted to giving her what she wants. She says what she desires is him, so this too, he will deliver.

"You have me."

He kisses her deeply, their lips locking together, his mouth opening slightly to share wetness and warmth. His hands grip her small body, her lower back, her waist.

Dedue says it so easily and means it, that he is here with her, enough to warn her and flood her with endorphins. Lauralae knows that part of him will love Dimitri for the rest of his life and there’s no shame in that, no hurt or rage, as it is so clearly part of him. Knowing that some part of this man’s vast love and affection is directed at her, for her? That is heady and overwhelming.

The hand around him sinks into his hair, gripping and scraping her claws against his scalp gently, even as her head tilts into the kiss. She feels as if she is growing more adept now, as if she is his, that she is learning the shape of kisses that pleases them both, and she sinks into it.

Pulled close against him, kissing him a little harder, filled with so much wanting and new sensation, it’s impossible not to moan softly against his mouth, to share her pleasure without realising. Something is opening up inside of her, and she wants to beg to keep it, to feel like this and keep him nearby, kissing and touching and feeling wanted and safe.

When she breathes, she shudders a little.

“Dedue…”

Their mouths meld together, their practice with kissing beginning to pay off as the movements become more natural. Feeling her claws in his scalp, a small sound escapes him, into her mouth. So much of his body is numbed and dulled in feeling, which is okay most of the time, but sometimes he aches to feel more of her. His scalp, however, is still sensitive, as is his face, and the contrast of high-definition sensation there compared to the dull blur of the rest of him is enough to shock him into pleasure.

She is pressed up against him, making her own soft sounds. It warms his whole body, not just with their imprint, but with a new sort of heat. Something physical, more burning than calm. He presses her against him with the flat of his palm on her lower back, and his other hand moves into her hair, smooth metal fingertips sliding against her scalp as well. He's surrounded by her touch, her scent, and it's dizzyingly pleasurable.

"Lauralae." He answers, his voice is low and steady, like a prayer. "What is it?"

It’s almost impossible to find the words to tell him what’s going on in her head. The experience is new, and she finds herself so flustered that everything seems to disappear from her mind, all her thoughts singularly focused on Dedue and his touch, the press of his mouth and the sounds that he makes. Each time he reaches for her and holds onto her, she feels like she could burst.

Stealing another kiss is easy, holding onto him and anchoring him, anchoring herself. She needs more, she thinks, in her sleepy haze and the early morning light. She wants to take all of him, to consume him and adore him properly, desiring all the content she can get and more. Knowing he’d give her what she asks for is empowering.

“You.” It’s the only thing she can think of, flushed and flustered. “Your kiss, and your hands, and the way you hold me. I do not want you to stop?”

He looks at her flushed face, in awe of the effect he seems to be having on her. Or, perhaps it is soul-related. In any case, there is a need about her, a yearning, that he can feel through their imprint and her body language.

"Then I will continue."

He moves his mouth more insistently against hers. His hand on her scalp grips her hair and pulls slightly, as he knows she likes, and his other hand slides up her back, pressing their bodies ever closer together.

He kisses at her cheek, then her jaw, and then tucks his head to kiss her neck, grazing his teeth there as she does to him, wondering if that is something she'll enjoy as well.

Dedue makes it sound so simple and so easy, the way he responds to her and touches her. It is as though he does not have racing thoughts in his mind casting judgement on all he does, questioning if he is worthy of this. She knows that his mind often hangs heavy with the same worries her own bears, but the way he touches her is so confident.

It makes her bolder too, leaning into the kisses and letting her sharper fangs brush over his skin, to chase the taste of him. Her senses are hyperaware of Dedue now thanks to her strange new tongue, and she feels surrounded by him, devoured even when they are doing something relatively tame in comparison to what is possible.

As he continues to touch her, she loses herself to it a little. The pull to her hair, the scrape of his teeth, has her pushing her smaller body into his, seeking something she cannot name, utterly at his mercy. Lauralae remembers how it felt to bite him, to sink her teeth in, to chase the sensation of being surrounded by him, and she relishes it in return. She had learned from feeding Silco that she enjoyed being bitten, and it's hard to hide her reaction to it.

Instead, her eyes flutters closed, and she makes a soft, almost keening sound against him, fingers squeezing wherever she can reach.

That sound she makes causes more heat to burn in his chest, in his gut. He exhales a small sound against her skin. He has no idea how this body works yet in terms of sex, but it seems he does still have... Genitals. Metal ones. They have more sensation than the rest of him, though still dulled. There's movement below his belt now, in response to how she's making him feel, and his face reddens. He hopes it isn't poking at her.

She seems to be enjoying this, so he continues kissing and biting her neck and pulling on her hair, being very careful with how much force he uses. He pulls her head back slightly to give himself more room in the crook of her neck.

Lauralae does not know what her body is seeking, but she knows that she wants something. There's a new, flushed heat to her, and each time that Dedue tugs at her hair, scrapes his teeth over her skin, she can feel it burn anew. She wonders if her new scales feel odd, if they make him uncertain or unsure, and she breathes out shakily as her eyes flicker to look at him.

Her voice is a touch hoarse as she speaks, soft with shyness. She wiggles closer, seeking.

"Dedue." Her fingers curl in her hair. "This feels..."

He actually enjoys the texture of the scales, the mix of rough and smooth on his tongue. With most of his touch senses muted now, it's nice to experience a new sensation once in a while.

She says his name, and it burns, the want and the ache. His body feels magnetized toward her, as it always has, since the day they met. He wants to touch her everywhere, but he does not want to be inappropriate or get carried away.

"Stop me if... If it's..." Breathless, he can't seem to put words to this; he's wanting with increasing urgency, and feels almost panicked by that, not wanting to make her uncomfortable or hurt her with his own desire or his strength. But he also can't quite think straight, his mind struggling to form words in the haze of this growing lust.

Feeling his tongue, feeling his touch, has her shivering, has her feeling as if she is floating. It is good, to reach out and touch him, the tangible proof of someone who cares for her, who wishes to cherish her, who wishes to make sure that she is feeling good things rather than bad. All her life, she has felt so much bad that the good felt foreign and too distant.

Not anymore.

Lifting her head, she swallows, kissing him again, arm tight around him.

"I do not want to stop," she admits. It isn't that she wants to end this, it is simply she does not understand it, the sudden rush of sensation. Lauralae wants more of what he is giving her, but her uncertainty bleeds into insecurity instead, worrying her lip as she gazes at him. "I do not know what to do."

"I do not know either," he admits. His soul makes it increasingly difficult to act without some external cue like a schedule, a task, an order, or a request. He has a lot of trouble deciding for himself how to spend his free time. On top of that, this is all totally new to him, so it's even more perplexing.

"I want..." He searches within himself for words for his own desire, and only comes up with something relating to her wants, but it's good enough. "I want to make you feel good. Where would you like me to touch you?"

There are places he wants to touch, but it feels impossible to do so without her permission.

"You do," Lauralae is quick to say, as if the implication is that being around Dedue or his touch does not please her, in whatever way he is thinking. Lauralae knows that he can be too harsh on himself, and if it lends itself to this situation, too, then she would be quick to fix it.

Leaning up, she leans in, their noses brushing before she breathes out.

"I do not mind where..." She swallows. "I would like us to learn together. My body is in your hands."

"Okay..." Dedue is uncertain, but he pulls away enough to look down at her body, clothed with a nightgown in the morning light. He feels awe, desire, and something else he can't name, something powerful and desperate. He felt this way sometimes when he looked at Dimitri, in the past.

"You are... Beautiful," he stammers, unable and unwilling to stop the thought from leaving his mouth.

His hands then finally move to those forbidden places. If he still had a heart, it might be pounding as he places a hand under her collarbone and slides it down over the curve of her breast. His other hand finds her waist, and moves over the curve of her hip. All the while, he is admiring her, completely captured.

It is so strange, to be so close to him and not feel her pulse racing in her chest. Her Spectral soul had taken that from her, but she enjoys the warmth of his touch, bringing life to places that have felt cold and adrift for such a long time. It feels as if he has ignited a fire in her, and her longing for him has found a real, physical place to settle into.

As his fingers trace over her breast, she shivers, making a soft, breathless sound, immediately embarrassed.

Lifting her gaze, she watches him, eyes dark and searching. Biting her lip, she worries it before she wiggles, giving him the space to explore, to go wherever he would like, open and vulnerable to him. She wants this, she thinks - she wants this so much, it feels as if she will implode if he doesn't give her what she needs.

"Dedue," her voice is quiet. "Your touch feels remarkable. You are remarkable."

Remarkable.

He cannot recall a time he felt that way, nor many times people offered him such a compliment. Only a couple of times in his adult life.

It warms and softens him, that she feels that way. He kneels next to her hip, his knee touching the side of it. He places metal hands on her pelvis, where her womb might be, and bends to kiss her stomach, as though in worship.

"You are so lovely."

His hands then move to her thighs, finding the bare part of them and sliding up, bringing the hem of her nightgown up over her hips. All the while, he glances at her face, trying to be sure he's not overstepping. Once the hem is up above her stomach, he bends to kiss it again.

She feels luxurious, she feels decadent, being touched and teased like this, being so at his mercy in a way that pleases her rather than terrifies. Lauralae wants this, she finds, despite her uncertainty, despite her inexperience. She wants all the things that Dedue is offering her, from the gentle press of his mouth against her own to the way his hands wander, tease and explore.

When he speaks, his low voice makes a shiver run down her spine, makes her feel a longing that had been absent within her for years. Decades, even.

As more and more skin is bared, Lauralae feels herself get shyer. It's harder to blush now with no pulse to spread her blood through her body, but the sensation of heat remains all the same. There are little patches of scales over her now, the curve of her hip, her inner thighs, dotted black and red as her new soul makes itself at home. His touch makes her burn, and the soft sound that comes from her lips is adoring.

Even as he touches her, she tries to do the same in return, fingers chasing his body, wanting to keep it for herself, wanting to keep as much of him as her own as she is able to.

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new icons for the boy!!!

handsome!!!

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and they were both bottoms

oh my god they were bottoms

this is so victorian i fucking can't

i'm so obsessed

I LIVE... orz

<3