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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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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