mania! ➺ tartaglia

twenty seven.

the following content is 18+! skip if uncomfortable.

-

It wasn't unlike your companion to have been unhurried and slow moving with teasing you. You'd noticed from before that he tended to take his time with faintly touching you in places that hadn't been given attention to in months, but that, in a sense, was what you preferred. After all, you did have all the time in the world.

"Relax.." He mumbled, his hands roaming down your tense body. Though it hadn't been the first time that you'd given yourself up to him like you were prey, you couldn't help but feel nervous.

Without removing the dress that had started to slip down past your shoulders, Childe began to suck possessively just below the crook of your jaw; you were sure that it was going to leave a sweltering bruise, though in that moment of time, you really didn't care about it. A meek moan only fell past your lips, one that made the mans doings to become rougher, almost as if someone was trying to take you from him.

Heat crept up the back of your neck, and it continued to prickle up to your ears. You found that you couldn't have torn yourself away from him even if you had wanted to, and before you could figure out where he would lead you to next, he had drawn you down onto the flat couch that had been situated right behind you, and right behind him. He took full advantage of this by swiftly guiding you into his lap, his free hand snaking around your thigh to tug you up and over him. You were positioned suddenly in a straddled kneel above his waist, but you were more concerned about how fast he had been with it as you had not even blinked an eye.

"I wonder how pretty you'd look all fucked out over this couch of yours." He wondered aloud, chills running down your spine just from the tone of his voice.

With your dress blown open by your widened legs, your panties were pressed right up against his waist like this — a fact his girth swelling against the crest of your inner thigh, so close to where you actually wanted it to be, let a blush warm up the apples of your cheeks, blossoming hot through your core as you stared down at him, unable to breathe as his hand on your thigh slid upward, brushing aside the fabric of your dress in its path, his eyes holding yours and not letting go. The Harbinger eyed you closely, like he was waiting for you to object, however, you never did. If anything, you imperceptibly rolled your restless hips against him, and his breath hitched in response to even the most minute of movement.

His hand slid up your arm as his eyes dipped toward your mouth; up and along your shoulder, slowly along your neck; taking his time to memorize your shape before his spread fingers were sinking into your hair, with you fighting not to show just how much his touch was affecting you throughout.

He was having all the more fun with having you seated upon him, appearing ever so vulnerable and needy. The mere understanding of all of you being all of his was euphoric to him, which is why he didn't waste any time in bringing you down to kiss him by a fistful of your roots, your lips fully plunging into his. Childe took a deep, longing breath the second your lips touched, like he'd been drowning before and only just learned to breathe.

Your hands found their way up the nape of his neck as his lips parted yours, driven purely by a steadily rising need; your fingers buried in his messy hair pulling tight. At your little reaction to him deepening the kiss, he coaxed your tongue against the heat of his own, while also drinking down the hushed, and whimpered breaths that he inspired you to make.

Childe's hand on your thigh roamed further still as his tongue continues to demand more of you, tangling with yours feverishly with every second that slipped away from your grasp. His fingers met the soft crease where your thigh met his hip, and to drive you even more insane, he drew designs over your pantyline before slipping just his fingertips beneath.