sempiternals | softer than rain, harder than pain

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softer than rain, harder than pain | @dawnbreaked

[ Trusting him was a mistake.

It was easier when she was a free agent, not having to worry about anyone else, focusing only on what she needed, what her company needed, working on a professional and not personal level, keeping her distance from others and letting them keep their distance from her.

It was lonely, but it was easier.

As a free agent, for example, she never would have been pacing the kitchen of the Dawn Winery with clenched fists and burning eyes, trying not to just snap and break something while Diluc's staff tend to him behind closed doors, caring for him through an unconsciousness going on at least a few hours now. She wouldn't be trembling with the cold horror of her Vision's resonance, nor dealing with tears she's unable to hide, sparkling as they are like diamonds frosted to her eyelashes. It wouldn't have been her for whom Kaeya came running, grave anxiety written over his face, tears of his own evident in the redness of his eyes and cheeks despite his attempts to hide them; she wouldn't have even known this was happening—

Somehow the thought does nothing to ease her churning, angry stomach. Eula closes her eyes and cups a hand over her mouth, convinced for a moment she's going to vomit. The free hand waves away whatever staff member it is who's trying to comfort her— she doesn't know these people, not enough for this— before coming to rest on the counter in front of her. She can feel the anxiety trembling through her skin where it contacts the furniture.

I swear, Ragnvindr, she thinks, a tight hold on the counter as if that will somehow make it better, if you get through this I'm going to kill you myself.

...

He'd better get through this. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

(That definitely surprised him to notice that she wasn't calling it cute or anything but it's a pleasant surprise to Diluc, he'll have to admit that he has a preference more leaning toward romantic titles and fairytale like qualities in general. There's a small bit of nervousness since he isn't quite sure how she'll receive his specialty and personal favorite knowing that meat typically could be hit or miss to others in the way he prepares it. It's only when she seems to sound pleased and eats more that he feels some manner of relief and maybe a small bit of pride he managed to succeed in getting her approval.

Good then. That certainly makes how he might behave knowing how quickly he gets inebriated worth tonight in general with him starting on his own plate of his favored meal in general first. The Panipuri and Samosa can wait knowing that they're not necessarily fit for a main meal in comparison which is why he included his personal spin on Pile 'Em Up anyway.

Had he known that she was finding him more attractive by the minute when she speaks about his cooking, he likely would have been blushing more brightly than he is now from the alcohol. The alcohol and her anyway once he reaches to take another swig to wash it down with carefully knowing if he drinks too quickly she'll be in for a surprise.

He wants to at least hold it back until after they finish the bigger part of their meal... if he even could knowing how it gets him.)

It's a relief... I do enjoy doing it when I get the chance to, much to Adelinde's amusement.

(Especially since both him and Kaeya typically could fend for themselves and give her a well-deserved break as needed. Something which Diluc did this time while letting her watch due to her concerns about his being up and moving that much.)

[ By this point, she's certainly noticed the color in his cheeks, but she hasn't quite pieced it together with the alcohol he's drinking— after all, there's a matching color staining her skin too, and while the wine is no doubt in a small part responsible, it's largely due to him: his presence, his appearance, his Barbatos-damned everything.

Not to mention, of course, the wandering, not-so-innocent parts of her mind. Eula sips at her own wine, a smile on her lips as she listens to him explain. ]

Why does she find it amusing? If anything she should be proud. [ After all, she knows for how long Adelinde has looked out for Diluc, how important her presence is in the other's life— she can't help but feel that the other would be happy to see how far he's come from the revenge-driven, angry young man of whom Eula has heard so much. A different Diluc Ragnvindr, one whom technically she has met, even if the memory of him is as distant as the memory of her own cold, lonely past.

She shakes the thought off with another sip, her twice in as many moments, before putting the glass down. One more bite of his specialty meal follows before she allows herself to reach for one of the samosas.

It's spicy, but not in the hot, uncomfortable way some Liyue foods tend to be. It's a spice that pairs well with the meat, and of course the addition of the flaky parcel around it makes the whole thing divine— ]

...Mm, you've truly been holding out on me with these skills, Ragnvindr. What kind of vengeance does something like this deserve...?

[ Her hand twitches a little even as she keeps a tight grip on her cutlery; she desperately wants to reach out and touch him, but doing so before finishing the food would be an insult in her mind. ]

... it was more that she hasn't seen me get this way in quite some time. She was proud but amused that I was already up and moving in the kitchen not long after recovering. (Of course he didn't want to throw out there that Adelinde was more amused by the fact the two of them were together more often as well but that didn't necessarily matter much. She was pleased to know that someone was dragging out that part of Diluc again knowing how he is now; it almost seemed as if she was approving of this especially after discovering Eula would just about make him regret it if he were to continue being reckless.

With a mix of the wine and his own personal thoughts floating about wandering into a more... it's definitely starting to get harder to keep down specific things coming to mind pertaining to them having had not been able to touch each other for quite some time. He finds himself maybe being subtle in the way he's sitting near her, close enough his tie is in reach once he reaches over to eat one of the Samosa's himself after for the most part eating down his specialty further.

He's a bit grateful that he learned this one given after trying Liyue's own variations of spice filled dishes, though he may be pyro attuned that didn't exactly mean he enjoys incredibly spicy meals. At the very least he's pleased that showing off for her went that well given her reactions and words.)

... what do you have in mind then, exactly?

(The curiosity in him is enough that he has to wonder what it is she may perhaps do to enact said 'vengeance' knowing her of showing it means she may or may not be planning something. Of course not that he'd dare push for it to be in the middle of eating as much as he's given small openings for after.

Gods, he really is torturing himself.)

[ There are thoughts, probably, about Adelinde and her mixed amusement and pride toward Diluc, but they're very quickly chased away by the he meets her eyes with curiosity in his own, a shudder of pleasure dancing down her spine despite her immediate efforts to suppress it. Oh, she knows what she has in mind, and she knows he knows it too, from the way he shifts, not as subtle as he'd like, to make sure he's in easier reach—

Not subtle, but Eula takes the bait anyway, movement fast enough that she could potentially be mistaken for one chosen by the sharp speediness of Electro, her fingers curling around his tie to take a firm hold and tugging, pulling him forcibly to her and pressing her mouth against his, something hot and wet and demanding with the need she's been feeling these past three weeks.

But even then, it's brief; a stroke of her tongue along his lower lip a few seconds in being the end to it, her breath already short as she pulls back from him.

At the very least, they should finish eating, even if it's torture.

So she peers up at him, eyes dark and lids heavy, fingers uncurling from his tie so she can sit back, breath catching despite how briefly the kiss passed between them. ]

I could tell you, but [ ~~then I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off you, just from thinking about it~~ ] isn't it more interesting to make you wait for an answer?

[ Torture it may be, but that doesn't mean Eula can't have some fun with it. ]

(It was in that moment he realizes he may have messed up in one way, knowing though she spent three weeks without touching him after that day, he spent way longer than that not touching her. A thought which he had forgotten about in the alcohol once he finds himself dragged toward her, their lips together for that brief moment so filled with heat. So filled with desire once he finds himself dealing with a sudden flare of his instincts knowing he should eat first.

That they should eat first once that hunger reaches his eyes, darker than ever, more fire consuming them in response as if showing he's very close already to being pushed over the edge from how his brain for a moment near forgets about the food he made. He's trying to not bend so early yet gods, that just made it harder knowing the wait was more torturous on him.

It's taking more than he thought he had to resist the urge to just pull her close and give her a kiss of his own in response to match that heat she gave him. If she was paying attention she'd likely notice the difficulties he's having too in resisting now completely.

That torture is going to obliterate his willpower.

Or to be more specific, it is already whenever he's at a point that the urge is there so intensely it's going to be a wonder if he can hold back fully. If not enough to at least give her the chance to finish eating first in exchange.)

... it's going to be a hard wait.

(And he'll be lucky to not ruin her dress.)

[ His words are received with a slow smile, something that could almost be sweet if not for the dark, glazed-over look in her eyes as she watches him, or the way she bites her plush lower lip before tracing her tongue over it, a deliberate motion for his benefit, meant in design to inspire further frustration.

How easy, that wicked part of her wonders, will it be to break a man who has gone without for three weeks? A man who is sitting across from her now with a dangerous darkness in his own eyes: a smoldering flame ready to burst to life, to burn and take and consume? She shifts in her seat, biting back a soft sound that springs unbidden to her lips as a particularly strong pulse of pleasure strikes between her legs at the thought, and it's with trembling fingers that she picks up her cutlery once more, returning to the meal.

Her eyes remain on his face the whole time.

(It makes for a hell of a time cutting, but it's worth it. That face...) ]

For me too, in case you couldn't tell. [ There's a pause before she continues, a hesitation— she knows what she wants to say, but as with him, her experience is limited, and she worries the words will come out strange or awkward. Determination carries her through, though, even as the blood rushes up her cheeks, as her voice comes out in a husky murmur: ] With how wet they are, I may as well have bathed in my undergarments.

[ ...Okay, so it's a little awkwardly phrased, but the spirit is there. ]

(Another flare up.

It's evident that he's just barely holding himself back but with the way that smoldering flame seems to be near igniting, fingers clenching tightly with him noticing his heat is at a level beyond his usual with this. Likely from the weeks of frustration but taking his eyes off her near feels impossible with him attempting to not act just yet being tested not only by the way she just made a show of licking her lips, but her words given in response.

His imagination flaring is making this worse too knowing that he's quite literally feeling as if he's on fire. All she has to do is push one more time by the look in his eyes and he'll break apart so easily from the frustration, from how much he wants her even as he tries to remind himself that they should finish eating in futility. There's not a chance they will at this rate.

Not with the way he's looking at her, having to completely concentrate instead of talking since he can't rip his eyes away long enough for anything else now in the way he's close to putting her against the table like this nearly or close to dragging her into his lap. His mind hasn't made a decision yet there but it's likely going to be his lap.)

... gods. (Though he says it more to himself, his tone betrays him in his hunger, his fire filled hunger that so badly wants to flood him through the restraint he's just barely holding against her. He's going to wind up doing something that dangerous knowing that with his heat the way it is, that it will be a miracle if he doesn't burn her.

... even if he doubts she'd mind that.)

[ ...They're not going to finish their dinner, are they.

It's a realization that strikes her the moment she sees the way his eyes hone in on her, the way she feels his heat spike despite the distance between them, and Eula swallows against the dryness in her mouth, such contrast to the wet heat between her legs. The single word murmured under his breath does little to help her, a shudder dancing down her spine at the thought that even her awkwardly honest words could affect him in such a way. It's a visceral thing, visible in the way her fingers shake once more, this time enough to drop her fork she's holding, the clatter of metal against ceramic echoing loudly in the too-quiet room.

She played too close to the flame this time.

Eula takes a breath, her eyes closing for a moment— as if somehow she can steady herself against the tide of her desire. And this time, the brush of her tongue over her lip is absent at best, far from the deliberate display of just moments ago. Where she was teasing, she's now too caught up in it, struggling to focus on anything that isn't him... ]

The food... [ It's a helpless murmur as her eyes open again, a desperate grasp toward the internal promise she made herself even before she knocked at his door. They're meant to finish eating before they fall into each other— ] You worked so hard on it, Diluc.

[ As if it will somehow help the situation— liquid resilience, perhaps?— Eula reaches for her wine glass and tips the rest of the liquid into her mouth. ]

(Controlling himself is so difficult, so much more harder knowing that they were both wanting. She didn't just play too close to his flame but she managed to make it grow more with how much longer he himself had to abstain from touching her as much as he wanted to. This thought was driving him insane too, that aching want that wants to surround the two of them with him knowing she can just as easily reach over to grab his tie once he absentmindedly pops another Samosa into his mouth since his own part of the meal wasn't too far from finished.

He's trying to wait so that she can finish if anything.

It's obvious that's what he's trying to do knowing were he to wait any longer than that his patience is going to run out before he can remotely get anywhere near done on anything else with her. He can do that much knowing his struggle, knowing that between the two of them it's so very apparent that they're not going to get through the rest of the meal.

Knowing that if he drinks the rest of his wine, he'd be unable to stop himself from cracking entirely, he's abstaining from that too with how much the alcohol is pushing him toward caving as well. It seems this taught him another thing ironically. That he's prone to being hormonal like her by far more than his usual while under the influence, or rather, it's something she gets personally whereas others don't get to see it.

Others would only get to see him clingy and sleepy in contrast, she gets despite his best efforts from that torturous three weeks hormonal and clingy instead. Maybe it's a good thing he refuses to drink in public then.)

... I know. (Her words barely register, trying to keep himself together a little longer right as his eyes settle on her lips. The desires still there to take and to let this flame consume them but he has to force it down for now.)

[ His restraint is good— better than hers at least, and perhaps that's visible in the way Eula writhes on the chair when he places another samosa between his lips, rubs her thighs together because gods damn it, she's in trouble when even the thought of him chewing his food is enough to send fresh sparkles of pleasure between her legs. His eyes are on her mouth, and this time it's not even out of teasing but necessity that she wets her lips with a dart of her tongue, her shaking fingers going back to the fork she let clatter to the table just moments before.

Archons, she wants him, she wants him to show her what he can do with that mouth, wants him to take her in his lap or against the table or against the wall or anywhere, wants him to take her to pieces with his flame before putting her back again... and then burning her down once more. She wants so desperately that it's hard to focus, that the need of it is growing louder than the single thought reminding her that he made this food for her, that she should enjoy it properly—

—oh but isn't he just as eager as she? She can see it in the burn of his eyes, how hard it is for him to wait, how much he needs her.

Eula's fingers falter over the silverware, letting it fall back to the tabletop, although she stops short of grabbing him by the tie again; instead, her eyes lift to meet his, breath ghosting short over her own lips. ]

...Can it be reheated without losing too much of its flavor?

... I think so.

(Burning, he's burning and he can feel it eating at him more, more and more as the feeling of his body aches in a desire to burn them both into pieces. Burn away everything, their thoughts, their bodies, their hearts with him trying so very hard to not bend in the fact he needs so desperately her. Her touch, her lips, their bodies melting after this long wait that they both had to suffer through whenever he wanted more of her to the point he considers it a feat he didn't break earlier.

With the way he spoke it's far too late for them to stop. His need and his desperate want of the person who almost feels as if she completes him more than he would have once known before is so strong. Even if he can't reheat the food with it retaining it's flavor he'll consider it enough of a success that she enjoyed it down to the Samosa's since he did want to show off for a change.

Before they broke apart like this into pieces since he's withholding just a little longer, he's so very close to her and the alcohol making him looser isn't helping much either with the urge he has to just lean in and break apart the remaining wall.

That is until he gives up on holding back with the intensity of his need hitting strongly enough that aching fire in him that needed her grew so loud that he could no longer find his restraint as capable of holding himself back. In that moment he cracks, he leans in and kisses her, hard at that yet so filled with fire it's likely going to be a wonder he's not breathing it.)

[ He thinks so. That's enough, as far as she's concerned, for her to make a move, to enjoy him now and think about eating again later, and it's with that decision that Eula pushes the silverware aside, abandoning it completely in favor of turning fully into him— Only to find her mouth captured by his, the weight of his body leaning in against hers, a sudden flame writing itself over her lips and everywhere else he touches.

(She must remember later to tell him once more how delicious the food is, that turning away from it isn't a commentary on its taste but more how desperate she is for him—)

Eula's reaction is instantaneous: she makes a soft sound of pleasure as her eyes sink shut, lips parting as she returns the kiss; and her fingers coil, one around his tie and the other into his dress shirt, tugging him closer as she shifts until she's half-off her chair. She can taste the alcohol on his lips, feel the beat of his heart under his chest, hammering in a rhythm similar to hers. And she wants to talk, tell him that she's missed him, needed him, but her mouth is too occupied with showing him, with answering the ache coursing through both of their bodies. ]

Where?

[ In the end, this single word is the most she can handle, gasped out between his mouth and hers, even as her fingers tighten into the fabric of his clothing.c ]

... could we even make it to my bed? (Good question is something that is hitting him, really he didn't care where they were as much as he had thoughts of taking her in his lap like this. Her pulling him close like this isn't helping either with his thoughts, through a mutual feeling of how much he missed her, had in fact needed her so badly that it was destroying him. If she says they couldn't then his option B is going to be the chair like this or against the wall on the way there.

Archons, even against his bedroom door is fine by him as long as it's her. The alcohol on her lips gives him a further sensation of feeling inebriated too. He's already against her in all the right ways by now and knows good and well she can feel how ready he is. The food comment can wait more though he knows she can easily drag him by his tie wherever she pleases given there's not a single complaint about it on his mind.

Just an urge to have her and to give her wordlessly those feelings again that were so strongly burning.

Even that didn't feel like enough, it never would feel like enough whether it be by words or their bodies. It's enough to make him wonder if this was how his father once felt with his mother but that's not a thought for this moment, he didn't need to be thinking more of that when she needs him most. That's something for when their want, their need is sated.)

I don't think I care much... where we wind up at. (Murmuring the words into their kiss, her lips aside, he found it best to voice that while he still could knowing he's so close to breaking still.)

...Probably not. [ It's about all she can manage, that acknowledgement... but at the same time she doesn't want their first time in three weeks to be in a kitchen chair of all places, regardless of how well-built it might be. And so she tears herself away from his lips, taking advantage of her body being halfway between two chairs in order to stand up and pulling him with her, her eyes dark and her body already trembling with her desire. ] But we can try.

[ Her fingers untangle, a hand finding his instead to pull him with her in a somewhat less-aggressive manner; she knows the way already to the bedroom, so that's no problem, but actually getting there might be, with every step feeling more and more difficult given the burning heat just barely behind her, wanting her as much as she wants him.

She makes it as far as the bedroom door— a valiant effort but not good enough— before turning back to him and grabbing his shirt and tie again to pull him bodily into her, backing herself into the wall next to the door and gasping aloud when his body collides with hers. Of course, she had no idea he himself was considering the wall, but right now it seems like a good enough place, especially as she rocks her hips up against him, knowing by touch alone how ready he is for her. ]

Here. [ It's gasped against his lips, her body arching up against his once more and her breath hot and panted into his mouth. ] We can.. mm, we can move after.

(It's the thought that counts. Since not even he was wanting to use a kitchen chair knowing that he's at a point that if they wound up breaking it and on the floor he'd have rather them not there. So trying to reach the bed and winding up against the wall, door, wherever? That's fine as a trade off once he gets pulled into following her though the heat leaving him is worsening with each step; that craving he has growing and his eyes darkening further with his own hunger.

Barely restrained heat, intense want and need that's flaring so badly once she takes hold of his tie, his dress shirt again and dragging him up against her. Their hips were rocking together now, his arousal throbbing at this point with an ache he didn't think possible. That heat he felt was at a point the fire in him finds itself seeking her so desperately once he kisses her hard again, so very hard and fire filled.

He didn't know where to start, it already felt as if his hips were mindlessly following her rhythm knowing how much he's wanted this with her. It's hard to think, hard to pull away, hard to get his hands to do anything but taking hold of her thighs to get his belt undone and trousers down just enough for this. Gods he can't believe he's lost himself this much already.)

Can't... stop... (The words though breathlessly gasped out in between kisses were husky, raw, wanting and hungry even. He'll try to move after like she suggested, right now this is overloading his senses already.)

[ This... oh gods, this is going to go somewhere faster than either of them is ready if they're not careful; with the way he's grabbing at her thighs to pull her closer, their hips rutting together as they kiss, with the way he gasps out that he can't bring himself to stop, it's only a matter of time before one or both of them tips over the edge— and they're still fully clothed, in nice clothes at that, and...

She tears herself from the kiss as well as she can with her back to the wall, needing some space to get clarity for her mind, and it's all she can do to unwind her fingers from his shirt and tie, dropping her hands between them instead. If he can't make himself stop, then it's up to her to keep her head enough to make this work, at least until she doesn't have to anymore. So she works quickly, fingers nimble as they unbuckle his belt and push his pants and underwear off his hips, then move to her own, hiking her gown up and her underwear— a sheer black thong— down.

It all happens in an instant, and only then do her hands go back to his shirt, pulling him back into a kiss now that she doesn't need the mental acuity to focus anymore, her mouth working hard against his and her leg arching up to coil around one of his. ]

There. [ It's a breathless moan against his mouth, another rut of her hips against his as she allows herself to sink back into the mindlessness of her need and want for him. ] Now you don't have to.

(As hazed as his mind is, he does find himself in that time apart looking curiously about what she wore this time once he spots the black thong she had on beneath the dress. His hips rutting did pause enough to make this easier but gods that was harder than he'd like to admit to do.) ... thong this time? (He can get out that much after some thought. Compliments might be a little too far-fetched but he can try that maybe a little even if his arousal is making this harder. It being freed just adds on to it given the ache is much more noticeable.

Diluc himself is by no means amazing at 'dirty talk', as he's realized before that's more Kaeya's show. Yet it isn't as if he can't help the imagery in his mind of her in them. Honestly that flame that's been ignited seems pleased at the thought by how his eyes look since he doesn't have the mental capacity to speak out everything as much as he'd like.

Maybe he even would tried but the thought goes back out the window once her mouth is back on his, thinking going out the window with his own lips back at it hard with hers once one of his hands finds it's way on the leg she coils around him. With their hips rutting together, almost mindlessly, he shouldn't keep her waiting too long anyway.

Length in his other hand, he soon enough lines up with her core and pushes onward, to the hilt and deep. There's almost a sigh of relief in their kiss from his part from how much he needed her in that time frame, even with his mind being in a haze to a degree he manages to mutter against her lips:) ... I really did miss you. (Not just the physical part, but in general is what's unsaid there knowing words are hard.)

[ There's a slight smile on her lips at his comment, a temptation to explain the undergarment now wrapped around her thighs, but the press of his length into her core leaves her gasping out instead, eyes fluttering closed as her fingers tighten in the material of his clothing, as her hips stutter in a helpless movement against his. Oh, by the gods has she needed this...

How much she's changed, Eula realizes, when the joining of their bodies feels like she's come home, an answer to all that she's been missing over the past few weeks. It's more than that with him of course, more than just the physical, but like this it feels like a culmination of everything, of their feelings and desires and—

Gods, there's no denying it any longer, is there? Eula Lawrence has gone from a soldier who relies on no one— who trusts no one— to a woman whose feelings are deep in the heart of the man whose body is connected to hers right now.

She's in love.

She loves him. ]

Me too. [ It's a breathless murmur against his mouth, an answer to his words and also a substitute for what she truthfully wants to say, hips arching into his as she deepens their kiss, as one hand slips from his shirt to wind around his shoulders, pulling him in as close as she can without crushing him. Right now, she doesn't want to be apart. ]

(The sweltering heat from his body is strong, strong enough that were he not careful they'd both be leaving with this with more burn marks than marks left out of the unspoken emotions that the two of them have felt together. For now he's stopping it, fighting it down so that it didn't dare to interrupt them by making it harder once Diluc finds himself drawn in closer after noticing the way she even felt relieved by their reunion in a sense.

This isn't something he wants to let go of even now with his heart pounding, it felt all too similar to his first with her. Diluc rarely trusts, trust was something one had to work hard to obtain and yet he finds himself unable to help the emotions, the thoughts, and the feelings that were rising from this. He knew by now what this was he felt but it only drives it home further for him.

He's in love with her and it's so maddeningly deep that he swears she could ask him to do anything and he'd do it for her. All within some manner of reason once he finds himself at hearing her reply, melt, their bodies were close enough she'd feel the heat easing in a sense from being near positively boiling them.

All from this love he has for her.

He won't tell a soul but her those words whenever he could finally say them to their face; this silence is more than enough with their bodies saying it and answering it for them instead. After the pause, it's soon enough his work starts in earnest with his thrusts beginning again.

It's taking everything he has and more to give her all of him now without that blame searing them both into a shared hell due to it. Something that Diluc would give her time and time again regardless of his vision being an issue to some thanks to the sheer heat from his body.)

Edited (I went to double check after waking up) 2023-02-07 21:05 (UTC)

[ Fighting it he may be but the heat is still dizzying, near enough to burning against the usual cool of Eula's skin, and it's almost a relief when it eases a little into a roiling, melted wash against her. His hips start moving and behind closed eyelids, her eyes roll back a little, a low moan on her lips as her own waist arches against his, as the leg coiled around his tries to tug him in closer to her on the inwards rhythm of his thrusts.

It's a bewildering realization that she will never have her fill of this, that no matter how much he gives her she'll want more of him, need more of him, not only like this but in any way he wishes to give himself to her. The feeling of it is strong, like nothing else she's ever experienced, and yet there's no doubt in her mind that she understands it, knows what it is telling her.

They've barely started and yet she feels like she won't make it much longer, the wait having frayed her senses until even the barest of touches seems like too much, until her desire has her weak in the knees. It's hard to think let alone hold herself back, but she tries nonetheless, trying to focus on kissing him and rocking her hips in rhythm with him instead of how good it feels, instead of the coil tightening in her stomach, instead of the warmth of his mouth on hers, instead of—

Mm, it's not working. ]

Don't judge me. [ It's a mumble into his mouth, a soft laugh on her lips despite herself. ] But I'm not going to last long if you keep up this pace...

(Ironically that makes two of them, with how long it's been, causing him to wonder if he should slow down to savor it more. Maybe, since the thought of it being slow isn't all bad... it just would make it a lot different than simply sex as Kaeya describes it often times much to his rather large annoyance. However his mind would much rather not think about that whenever he's drawn in so closely; like neither of them wished to let go which he's almost certain is true enough given their track record.

More, more, and more. The feeling has yet to fade, to seek more of her in everything she wants to give him from their bodies to moments they both long since told themselves they shouldn't dream about to begin with. It's only now that he for the time being eases into something slower with his rhythm, the fire still there, but something more different than the heated passion that they've had.

A slow burning passion even if his heat is dizzying for the two of them; as if to greet her with something more 'appropriate' than just the heat intensely taking everything at the start from them. This time to him it feels as if he's made a return home and only seeks to take something of these moments with her slow before it consumes them further.

Whether it works or not, he's not going to be sure though the feeling of it is something else he's welcoming immensely.

He can speed up again if she wants him to, since Diluc knows he'll always want to at any time she needs.)

I'm not, tell me if it's too slow... (Because he didn't want her to think he'd stay at that pace either if she finds it too fast or slow for her liking.)

[ She gasps out against his lips when the rhythm of his movement changes, slows in an effort to hold her— hold them— back from that peak, and Archons it's so frustrating that she wants to scream despite being exactly what she needed to make this last, exactly what they needed to make this about them and not just about the physical act of joining their bodies together. The arm around his shoulders locks in closer, the hand still coiled in his shirt tightens its grip, her hips rock up against those thrusts, and gods she needs more of him even as she welcomes the new speed for what it is. ]

It's... it's perfect.

[ It's a mumble against his lips, a confidence that is only half of the truth but all of it at the same time, and it's followed by a soft moan at the realization that the slower pace allows her to feel him differently, increasing the pleasure even as it delays it. Gods, she has needed this, but more than this she has needed him, hasn't stopped needing him since that night on the side of Dragonspine—

The murmur of his name is shaky as she breaks their kiss for a moment, something dark and serious in her eyes before pressing back against him, and there's something near desperation in the movement of her lips, the realization that she needs to shut herself up before she says something she can't take back, because Archons help her she loves him— she's in love with him and there's not a single intrusive thought her mind can throw her way to make that stop, the words sitting on the tip of her tongue despite her best effort. ]

(Slow burning passion, something that feels romantic in it's slowness even if prolonging it can be frustrating on both sides. He's close to her by now enough that emotion in his eyes he knows is love seems to peer out enough though wordlessly. The fast pace as nice as it was isn't something he wants her to think he's only after, the intimacy of this with his slow and deep rhythm is enough to make him melt more by now.

It's perfect she says, then he'll have to remember this for if they find themselves ignoring dinner to simply just lose themselves in what is their hearts singing in a way out to one another. Begging for their partner in their dance to respond though he knew how much he did need her, will always need her as this realization sinks in further.

His grunts are soft, the brief moment of air he gets from her parting soon taken away.

He can see something is in her eyes but the desperation of this kiss makes him wonder if she was trying to say more than she knew for now. Who knows, but, he does know that he can't help the way he meets her desperation with his own. His own love and desperation as his intrusive thoughts are quelled to silence. A much welcomed surprise, a much needed one. She knows his answer after all. He loves her, more than he ever would have thought.)

[ She's starting to feel like she can't breathe. Between the desperation of their kisses, the feelings she can feel emanating from him as certainly as she's aware of her own, the way his movements bring her ever closer to her peak while his speed tries to hold her back from it, the soft sound of his voice grunting against her lips— It's almost too much for her, overwhelming every inch of her with the heat of him. Her hips arch, and she answers every sound of his with one of her own, breathlessly gasping against his lips.

She confessed to it being perfect, but the words feel insufficient, don't do justice to the molten fire of her blood, to the way she knows that he's too much and yet at the same time not enough, and the words are still there at the corners of her lips, fighting her on slipping through, waiting for the moment she loses enough of her control over herself—

Ah, she needs... How is she already so close again when he's pulled her back from that edge once already? ]

Can't— can't hold it, Diluc...

[ Does she want him to slow down even more? Or speed up and bring her over? Is both a valid option, is the wild thought, even as she knows it's impossible. She just ~~wantsneeds~~aches for as much of him as she can have, in every possible way. ]

... that... makes two of us. (Gods. He's been teetering between it this whole time, not enough yet enough, wanting and needing yet aching in it once he finds himself speeding up just enough to not lose the more tender feeling of this pace he took up. He's so very close to the edge and not wanting to let go of her nor for her to let go of him once his heat builds into an intensity it's a wonder his clothes aren't on fire.

That can be something he worries about later, the fire in him wants out, wants out so desperately in the way he's staring at her. In the way he's up against her right as he doesn't notice how disheveled his ponytail has become, the way it's draping over them just enough with the sweat coming off his body in such a way others would be concerned at the sight.

He'll need water after this before they carry on, is his only thought, that way she didn't worry completely about him knowing his vision can raise his heat to some rather... interesting levels. Especially whenever it comes to them being joined together like this.)

... hold on to me... just like this...

(There's a tenderness in the way he says it, the way he's breathless and wanting. She'd likely want to see more of this from him is his last coherent thought on the matter, before his head goes empty with nothing more than her, only her, in how she drives him insane, how she causes him to melt away into something he thought long gone.

Something he deems will always be meant for her.)

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