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[Ethan's been rather... more lucky, this round of things. Even if the chiri blossoms had had an effect on him, the way he's been? It's no surprise he'd have found someone to assist him really.

In any case, he's not going anywhere in particular, but the sound of something catches his ear. A rustle of leaves, perhaps, in the blossoming path. Why it worries him, he can't really say - intuition, maybe, or just the luck of curiosity. In any case, he pauses when he spots her - scrubbing at her skin like it's offended her somehow, and it brings to mind some of his previous interactions. Not the same, he reckons, but that's not the point anyway.

The point is that he clears his throat, stopping a polite distance from Ningguang.]

{Miss Ningguang? Do you need some assistance?}

[He certainly looks concerned, and nothing more besides - how could he not, really? She looks like she might just lose her mind if she doesn't get something.]

( at first, she's reluctant to turn to face him--she recognizes the voice, of course, just as she would dutifully recognize anyone who met her before, but this is not the sort of position that anyone should catch her in. yet she's still grateful that it isn't someone else; it would be morbidly embarrassing to be caught giving in to the strange urges of a strange planet by someone like keqing, or even childe. ethan, as she knows him, is kind and polite, a bit distanced but could never mean her any harm; he doesn't really have a motive to use anything against her, either. still--she's careful to give one last, claw-raking dash down her arm before she carefully tugs her glove up, smooths her palms out against her dress and turns to face him.

the smile on her face is worn, but it's not unkind, nor dishonest. although she likes to tend to things alone, there is some solace in having company, and having the company of someone she recognizes, rather than just a stranger. but her pale face is flushed, a pink to her cheeks that is inherently uncommon, and though she steps closer to him, she worries for the sort of reaction her body might have in regards to his, like perhaps this horrible itching will give way to something on his skin, as well. )

Ethan. It's a pleasure to see you again, although I have to apologize for my appearance here.

( there's a faint nod of her chin, almost a laugh, before she shakes her head: the effects of all the itching means there's blotches of soft pink skin, where her sleeve gives way to the top of her glove. )

I've been told this is the effect of some of the pollen in the air, although I admit that I'm struggling with what the further ramifications will be, without...relief. Are you familiar with it?

( maybe he knows some other trick? perhaps she should jump into cold water? she watches him with a faint smile, curious. )

[ethan can't help but watch her actions - really, it's just how he is, even if it wasn't just... worrisome. those claws don't seem like they would be conducive to protecting soft skin, and he's... been in some situations where he's definitely torn into his own skin even with his short nails.]

{It's nothing to apologise for. This place is...}

[when he pauses, he frowns, shaking his head. how to explain it? she's been here a month now, but it was definitely (thankfully) a lot calmer than prior. between the feral people in the first month and his own experiences with the plants this last month...]

{It seems like this place has the strongest effect on us, especially if we're not engaging in synchrony regularly.}

[his frown deepens a little and he reaches out to touch a blotch of pink, gentle and easily brushed off really. as to an answer...]

{I'm not, personally, but I did deal with another... compulsion, not too long ago. Usually, synchronising of any sort is a help.

If you'd like, we could at least find somewhere to sit and relax. It might not be all you need, but it should help.}

[He doesn't want to be presumptuous, but he's also unfortunately aware of how troublesome it can be to have no relief at all. After avoiding it with the plants for so long the last time, he's not sure ignoring anything is smart here.

Beyond that, how much assistance she'd like to take is ultimately up to her.]

It is unfortunate, then, that I prefer to engage in it as little as possible.

( it's said with the air of a joke, because it is: she doesn't really have anyone that she trusts to depend on, in this place, enough for something as personal as that; and as someone who doesn't really much like to have to trouble anyone at all, or someone determined to rely on herself, it's a little unfortunate to have to try to do things a different way, here. but she's had the currency and the methodology explained to her succinctly, and it's an inevitable byproduct of this place, isn't it? so she relents, with a sigh, and nods towards a couple of benches, set up the hill from them. )

You're very kind to offer. Up there, perhaps? A bit of privacy, as well.

( since he's here, and unassuming enough--she gestures out with a palm, first, before she sets out, careful and steady in her steps despite the distinct urge to start dragging her fingers down every inch of her skin. it's awfully persistent, and seems almost worst, in the presence of someone else; that means that when she sinks down onto the bench, she reaches for ethan with both hands, guiding him firmly so that he sits as near to her as she can manage.

it's his words that she's ruminating on, as she lays her gloved hands on his arm, keeps them linked together--hopefully he doesn't mind, as she tilts her head to look at him. )

What else will I need? ( curiously--oh, she knows what the natives said, but she would like to hear it from ethan. ) In your opinion.

{As a whole, it isn't nearly as reliant on deep intimacy as they make it seem, at least.}

[There's not the least air of deceit in it, and he waves a hand - he understands, after all. Despite the fact that he'd fallen in with two people - one whom he nearly fears how alike they are and another who had... rather pushed his way into his life in some measure - Ethan is normally a fairly self-sufficient individual. This place has its way of forcing some things, but...]

{It's the least I can offer, given we're all here together. Lead the way, miss Ningguang.}

[The walk is a quiet enough one, easy and smooth, and Ethan is only a little surprised when both hands reach for him to guide him quite nearby. For someone who self-admittedly avoids this, he can imagine it's difficult to ingratiate herself, or perhaps rely on others.]

{In my opinion...} Hm.

[The 'hm' is aloud, a deep, smooth tone in comparison to the mechanised voice.]

{If I may be blunt, I can say from some experience that yes, sexual intimacy is normally the most powerful relief from anything that happens here. Even so, I know of plenty of us who are young or uninterested, and they've managed just fine. It seems to be more the depth of the connection.

Just leaning on someone you... care for, or are attracted to, or otherwise have a good connection with, is stronger than someone you don't know, or trust less. It's perhaps not an ideal answer, but it's what I've found.}

( no, it's not the most ideal answer--but it's clear, and it's honest, and she appreciates the evidence of his experience more than a guess, or the teasing suggestion of people she doesn't know, natives and their encouragement that may not be for the sake of her relief but for the sake of this place as a whole. so even as they sit there, and he explains, she finds herself nodding, making the realization that she's going to have to admit more of herself to those that she's become familiar with, here, if she's going to survive doing anything here at all.

thoughtfully, she lifts her gaze to watch him as he speaks. )

And--ah, I'm sorry, it's just...

( with a bit of a laugh, soft as it is, she manages to untangle one of her armss from ethan so that she can scratch at the side of her neck; whatever it is, it's spreading to more than just her arms, at this point, and growing increasingly frustrating. )

Do you think you could find yourself attracted to me? ( well, at least she's clear and blunt about it: there's no judgment in her gaze, just the cool, calm curiosity, as if she's asked him his favorite tea or what sort of books he likes to read. ) It's alright if I don't meet your preferences.

( just as truthfully, for her preferences, she would--rather not have anyone touch her at all, but something tells her they may be a little similar, in some respects, like that. maybe that's what affords him a small, private smile, as she tilts her head and studies him while she waits. )

[It's as blunt and clear as it is sudden and surprising, and for a moment, Ethan can only blink at her. Well, he can't fault her for that in response to his own statements.

More, it's that he actually needs a moment to think on the actual question. Attraction is something that just... happens, and he's not sure what the actual connection between them is.]

{Honestly? I'm not certain what my preferences are, as a whole. More...}

[His lips purse as he considers how to say it, exhaling a soft hum.]

{I can tell you individual action traits that I enjoy, but I don't really have a... type, precisely. You're very attractive though, yes.

I'd be more surprised if I met yours, if I'm honest.}

[He's still reserved in his motions, though he does reach up gently to pull her hand away from her neck. Honestly, he doubts it will help, if she's already asking this...

Exhaling a sigh that's vaguely amused, perhaps even a tiny bit embarrassed, he actually parts his lips to speak, voice a little tired, but still deep and rich.]

... It may be easier to just... go slowly, for now. Especially if you're not really sure what you like either.

[He's watching her more than anything else, ensuring she doesn't hesitate too much as soft, cool fingers shift to brush along her jaw.

Really, he doesn't mind. He's not the type to really mind when it comes to things like this.]

It's easier, I find, when you can stop at your comfort level. [He doesn't note that he's not yet found a reason to stop - the important implication is that this will be at Ningguang's speed.]

( it's refreshing, in a sense, that he takes her hand without any thought to it at all--more that he just sees something and acts on it, that there's no nervousness or question or even fear to it, and she's so amused that she allows him to hold her hand for a moment, no matter how badly she still wants to rake her fingers down her neck and to her chest. even more refreshing that he uses his voice: his actual voice, spoken from lips that she's focused on more than the words themselves. this is a means to an end, clearly, and might be for the both of them, though that doesn't--mean that it has to be unenjoyable, does it? he's attractive, though she imagines he doesn't need her telling him that; he's comfortable to be around, though she imagines he doesn't need her telling him that either.

so she sets her hands into her lap for a moment, polite, or perhaps savoring the fact that while his fingers are cool, along her jaw, they're not unpleasant. and though she doesn't really like anyone to touch her, this is more--along the lines of business, rather than anything as deep or as troubling as the thought of a relationship or something where her deeper thoughts and feelings have to be shared. the more he touches, the more she can feel her skin soothe: a tingle of it, like it's not quite enough, but that's easily fixed. )

Or not stop at all? ( questioning, as one of her hands lifts, graceful, to shadow over his; she gives it a squeeze, brushes it up so that it cradles her cheek for a moment, selfish to have a bit more touch to calm her. ) If that's comfortable for you, too.

( equality, there. give and take. the art of having a beneficial contract. her lips curve into a smile, but her hands are moving instead to tug herself closer to him, fingertips that whisper over one of his thighs, the one nearest to her, just for the sake of feeling him close by. ) I may have a bad habit of trying to take charge, however.

[his laugh is soft, almost sweetly gentle in its way. she may not be trying in particular, but something about the air of ningguang puts him at ease. it's a first, in many ways.]

Or not stop at all, yes. [an easy response, and his fingers cradle her cheek carefully, but not delicately.] If something bothers me, I'll say as much. You are, of course, welcome to do the same.

[it's the only logical way, to him. equality, indeed, and he inhales a soft breath when she tugs herself closer, ghosts fingertips over his thigh.]

... You'll find that's not a bad habit, necessarily. I've a habit of falling into a following position, I don't mind at all. [he's no idle partner, by any means, but it's a lot easier to follow someone's lead and figure out what they enjoy than it is to take that charge when he barely understands emotional... well, anything. his thumb, in turn, shifts to brush along the curve of her lips, slow in their explorations for now.]

( she laughs, but it's not unkind--and it's not much of a laugh, either, just the faint ghost of breath on the pad of his thumb as it moves along the curve of her lips. it's not exactly surprising, but not in the sense that she thinks there's anything wrong about it. it's more that it means that she won't have to apologize for being clear in a way that others might find demanding--or that he'll take offense to any kind of directive. rather, it bodes well for any kind of bond between them: that they'll work together, off each other, rather than in conflict.

the more that he touches--the further that he touches--the more she thinks she can understand what this itch is about. it's the kind that can't be scratched, really, that deep-seated urge that he brings forward, and soothes, with his careful, but not fearful, touch. it makes sense, what the natives told her, the stubborn streak in her refusing to see it for what it is--and if he's willing, then that's lucrative for her, isn't it? )

I strive to make things as equal as they can be... In all my arrangements. ( mostly in business, but well--this works here, too, and she focuses her gaze on his face. ) So if I encouraged you down onto your knees, underneath my dress, between my thighs... You would, of course, understand the sort of reciprocation I'd be willing to offer.

( she's smiling, but it's measured by what she can read on his face. ) And does that bother you? Here? In public?

[he can recall it, in some ways - the first time he'd felt such a deep pull of need, the way it coursed to quench some unknown fire in ways he couldn't begin to describe. it's a little... funny, maybe, that he's here sort of on the other side of it all, far from the first and largely in a position to explain, wordlessly, the value of deep connection.

those are thoughts for later, though. right now, stubborn or not, transactional or not, ningguang is very clear in her wishes. it's almost more disorienting than he's used to, as someone who usually devolves into snark or, if he's lucky, into giving exactly what his partner wants. that, at least, is the same enough to grasp on.]

Well, I can take a hint, yes. Reciprocation is up to your whims, though. I hardly need it, just to help is also fine.

[he's a strange one, perhaps, but there's no strain to his expression in saying it. honestly, after the first time he'd intentionally pushed anything... no, he'd much rather leave this to her discretion. it does heat his cheeks a little to think of the mostly public venue, but did he actually mind? not nearly as much as he might have once thought.]

It... well, no. The thought of possibly being caught out here is sort of exciting, if I'm honest. [and he's endeavoring to be quite honest, about now. his expression turns the slightest bit teasing, finally, the seriousness sort of degrading over ethan's softer, more playful side.] So if that's what you'd like, I'll do my level best to leave you satisfied. If you'd rather move, I'll follow.

( exciting? it does make her laugh, again, but it's not at him, or in the sense that anything he's said is silly, or out of bounds. rather it's that she finds it to be true: it is exciting, especially for someone who works so hard to maintain an image of order, or decorum, in front of others, lest she give something away. there's a freedom to being here with ethan that she didn't quite expect to have: he doesn't know much of anything of her, or her past, or her status back home, and she knows relatively little of him, as well. there are no expectations or images to be broken, but merely the reciprocation of attraction, or pleasure, and that's about as pleasantly transactional as something like this is going to get. she doesn't let her walls down even with sex: but he has endeared her enough that she doesn't want him going away empty handed.

so she shakes her head a little, the charms in her hair moving with the movement. no, she won't move--though it is nice that he would follow--but instead cast her gaze up, just a cursory examination of the area around them. it's not as secluded as it perhaps should be, but then again, if this place didn't want things such as this to happen, they maybe they should control the effect of their flowers, shouldn't they? so instead, she draws her hands away from ethan, but only so that they can move to her own body: gloved hands that seek either side of her slit dress, dipping beneath the ribboned bands so that she can feel for the hem of her shorts and, pointedly, start pulling them down.

it's probably the most graceful she can manage it to be, which is ironic, given what she's doing--but she only lifts her hips enough to get the movement necessary, and then the thin, black material is down past her knees, dropped to her ankles before she lifts one heel and then the next, plucking them up and setting them neatly on the bench at her other side. that's all that's underneath the dress, at least, so when her gaze turns to him again, it's with warm amusement. )

You can start doing your level best, then. ( not a command--but an expectation, as she watches him, and then draws her gaze down towards her own lap, as if in indication. ) Do tell me if there's too much strain on your knees, and we'll figure out a more comfortable position for you.

[it isn't the first time this place has practically demanded things be nearly public, and at this point, ethan very much doubts it will be the last. No, there's not really any shame in sex here, save what the gembonded bring from their own worlds.

he watches with some fascination while she works to remove her shorts - less, really, in the actual removal and more in the soft certainty of her motions. some might think him strange, but he finds the deliberate actions and confidence therein far more attractive than any single swath of skin or body part.

at her concern for his knees, he can't help but laugh - not at her, any more than she's laughed at him in turn, but for the circumstance. there's no act he doesn't feel some ache following, after all. his own hands move, stripping the glove from his left hand to leave them both bare.]

There isn't much to be done about that, particularly here. I think I'll be alright.

[setting the glove aside, he lets cool fingers trail over ningguang's thigh, soft and reverent. there's no sense in rushing - he's never seen the effects handled more efficiently by being quick, presumably because, well, manna is generated for every moment of synchrony, after all.

besides, he's quite content with the idea of worshipping his partners, and ningguang is no exception. sinking down to his knees, he shifts the edge of her dress out of the way enough to let lips graze skin, following the motion of his fingers.]

Please feel free to direct me however you see fit, miss Ningguang.

[his breath ghosts along her skin as he speaks, barely a sigh of it really. it's hard to guess whether he intentionally takes her words to heart or not, but ethan only lifts the side of her skirt to slip beneath its cover grazing teeth along her inner thigh to test that reaction first. admittedly, he's less versed with women than men, but that doesn't bother him at all. he suspects a lot of the weak spots are the same anyway, especially in someone as similarly reserved as she.

his fingers, thus, are first to slip between her thighs. they're warmed by now, softly curious in their exploring, and two tease along her slit after a moment.]

( for as much as she's reveling in the idea of being some nobody here, in a sense, of not having the burden of having to look over her shoulder and remain constant, yet demure, she does spare another glance around, just to confirm, as ethan sinks to his knees. likely this would be the moment that anyone would seek to stop them: once they get going, no one would be quite so bold as to approach, and even if they did, she doesn't think neither her nor ethan would really even care at all.

the touch of his fingers, cool, over her thigh makes her smile; he's the type to be smooth, she thinks, a delicacy to his movements that she enjoys, and even though she's sitting rather proper, against the bench, the slide of her knees apart to accommodate him is slow but sure, almost lascivious.

his teeth graze at her inner thigh, and a breath escapes, warm but pleased--after all, she hasn't had so many hands or so many mouths touch her that she's lost the pleasure of sensation; in fact it's nearly heightened, here, which must be that pesky pollen, or perhaps something more. the further he moves, the further she knocks her thighs apart: and his fingers tease in along the slit of her, wet and eager in a way that she's not ashamed of, not in the slightest. one of her hands, still gloved, still clawed, goes for the top of his head, but it's only for one slow, affectionate brush along his hair, encouraging.

she's happy to direct him, but for now, she'd like to see how he goes at his own pace. for now, she can feel her thighs go tight and then relax, shifting her hips towards his fingers as though in quiet, supportive, encouragement--and there's the trickle of it into where they bond, nearly humming with arousal for his touch. )

[ethan would probably laugh if he knew - he doesn't think himself smooth, really. he's good at following suit, taking a not-quite-passive role with others both in and out of intimacy. every small motion leads from thought to conclusion, and even if he somehow had a question of what to do with himself here, he'd hardly need to ask.

it'll mean nothing to her yet, but he keeps his tongue to himself for now. every motion brings lips and teeth closer to their goal, and all thought of the outside filters out and away. there's no need for it, and if someone came by... well, maybe they would enjoy the show. he doesn't care, certainly.

the sound of her breaths is soft and pleasant, urging more than even the languid, delicate parting of her legs. it's something he drinks in, just the same as he drinks in the feeling of fingers brushing along his hair. likely, he'll never lose that sensitivity, and it draws a breathy sigh from his lips.

fingers dip curiously inward, slow and thorough in their movements. they're slim and long, completely without hesitation as they explore - this is, after all, a first for him. what better way to go about it than to learn every inch of the space? she's so... soft, really, as he follows the folds down to her entrance, attention on the movements of her body. the first brush of his thumb against her clit, in turn, is somewhat incidental.

some impatient part of him (possibly brought on by some lingering pollen, who can say) wants to dive in, to just let instinct lead. ethan ignores it, instead focusing on feeling her reactions to his fingers to inform his mouth. which, of course, hasn't slowed in the least. in fact, he brushes just the tip of his tongue along the curve of her inner thigh and presses down, suckling gently, carefully.]

( as much as she might declare herself demanding, it mostly just means that she's direct, in a sense, unwilling to compromise herself or her thoughts for the sake of anyone else. oh, she's good at masking them, certainly, or at least covering them up enough, wrapping them up nicely to keep them from offending anyone outright--unless they deserve it--but it does mean that if ethan falters, or does something she doesn't enjoy, she'll be quick to correct him. not that she thinks he'll take offense, but perhaps, in the opposite way, he can take some solace or pleasure in the fact that he's doing everything right so far, despite his inexperience. his fingers shift down and with it comes the faint, insistent press of her hips down with it; well, her mind might be willing to be gentle, but her body is maybe a little too demanding.

it doesn't help that his thumb brushes up against her clit in a way that feels, with some warm amusement, accidental: it means that the sound that escapes her lips is almost accidental, too, a quick pant of breath that's there and gone again, almost swallowed down into a pout. he'll get there. his mouth will get there, more likely, which is what she's somewhat eagerly waiting for: spread apart, now, one of her thighs moves, a gentle, playful nudge of her knee against his shoulder, like she's threatening to squeeze him in there. the skin along her inner thigh is sensitive--almost too sensitive, given the way it blossoms up, pink by his attention, and how her breath catches again like she's not even thinking of it. )

I appreciate--your dedication. ( she teases, runs her fingers back through his hair, because it's the honest truth. he's taking his time like she's worth something, despite the fact that this is just an even, equal exchange of mutual pleasure and manna; and he's both sating and ramping up the effects of the pollen, which must be why her hips push towards his fingers again. ) What a sweet boy you are...

Sweet... I don't think I've ever had that descriptor used with me.

[there's a fair bit of amusement to the words, breathed along her skin, barely a murmured purr while fingers card through his hair. he likes that, after all - it tells him as much as the shift of her hips and legs, provides a grip for immediate direction - should she decide she needs such, anyway.

he's fairly determined to leave that to whatever she wants to do, though - it's a lot easier to just treat her kindly, to build anticipation and learn what she likes. and if he could see her nearly pout, it might spur him on faster. ah well.

it won't take long, in the grand scheme of things, for ethan to get exactly where she'd like him. hips press toward his fingers and he lets them guide them, slipping between her folds and inside, thumb rubbing much more intentionally. the shift is swift and unsubtle, probably just as well - his thumb retreats to make way for his mouth, tongue dragging against her clit; that... certainly is one way to find out about the piercing in it, catching on the little nub somewhat in its movements. he finds he quite likes the way she tastes (this fact, admittedly, is less surprising at this point than not), and there's a soft groan that escapes him in turn, as ethan's weight shifts to ease the sudden pressure of his pants.]

( that is one small little morsel of information that she tucks away: if he doesn't hear how sweet he is, often, then what does he hear? what sort of a person is he, to others? and to herself? it's fascinating: people are fascinating in a sense, but don't hold her attention nearly as readily as the thrill of business; still, she has to know how people work in order to get anything out of them, and though right now, the only thing she's seeking from ethan is some mutual agreement of pleasure? that could change in the future. perhaps he knows things about this city that she doesn't: likely he does, and she could really use his help.

those are brief thoughts. they nearly take her out of her reverie: but that's how she's always been, too. the type to still be mulling over some thought or realization, from the city below her, even while she's submitting herself to some other type of situation.

his exploration leads him to precisely where she wants him, which is why her fingers go back through his hair again, gloved fingers curled in at the back of his head for a moment like she doesn't want to reward him, entirely, by pulling on it until she's certain. but his thumb gives way to his tongue in a way that's almost startlingly fluid, or perhaps she just thinks so, given how swift it is--his tongue, with the piercing that surprises her, a cool warmth that makes her lips part with a moan, soft and sudden. he's earned it, at least. tight, now, her fingers grip in at his hair: not hard, but enough pressure to reassure him, or guide him, that he's certainly onto something with it.

she doesn't even care anymore, if anyone comes by and sees them. doesn't spare her gaze from angling down to look at him, between her thighs, and the ripple of warm heat that vibrates up from the flicker of his tongue, from seeing him there, beneath her dress, makes one of her legs lift, shifting it delicately over his shoulder; the curve of her high heel digs into his back, just faintly, but she'll leave it there for a moment to see if it troubles him. )

[they're certainly questions he would answer if asked, at a later time or under different circumstances. he is, in many ways, his own oddity, operating under his own measures and morals. therein, those measures keep him settled in his task, contented to be there between her legs with no regard to his surroundings otherwise.

it's interesting to him how soft she feels compared to what he's used to - not a bad thing, by any means. merely different, and his breath catches only slightly when fingers curl in at the back of his head, seemingly pressed almost absently there. he's not a quiet partner, normally, and it at least makes him easy to read in this.

admittedly, he's glad that he reaction is as sharp and plain as it is - there had been some sense of wonder if it wouldn't just be... well, less. she sounds very pretty, he thinks, in her surprise - not that she didn't sound such prior. his moan as she grips and tugs at his hair is muffled against her skin, and his gaze turns upward to watch what he can past the shift of fabric and the swell of her breasts besides. his tongue is adept and curious, raking that ball against her clit and pausing only so that his mouth can press to the curve of her hood, suckling carefully there to test more reactions. his fingers keep up their idle teasing, but they aren't his focus - more, they're just seeking out other little reactions.

at first, he hears more than registers it when her leg lifts, shifting her high-cut skirt out of the way and allowing her to position as she likes. then, a heel presses into his back and he doesn't even try to stop the moan - if she's not careful, ningguang will find that heel pressing into metal along the base of his spine. still, the sensation assuredly doesn't trouble him - at least, not on any negative way. it seems only to increase his enthusiasm, honestly.]

( it's good that there's no complaint--she would have at least moved more for his comfort, rather than anything else, but the position is so much better when she can get a bit of leverage; her hips shift up, a soft sound betraying her despite best efforts, though it doesn't really matter, does it? she's just never really let anyone hear her like this before, so it's something new, something novel enough to have her feel trepidation if only for the fact that she's so used to concealing everything. letting ethan into a few secrets, though, is beneficial for the both of them: just as her fingers, holding his head in place, is beneficial for the both of them, too.

her fingers keep him where she wants him, but his tongue is doing remarkable work--enough that she can almost forget where they are, that she can leave it aside for long enough to focus on the pleasure and not the circumstances surrounding it. gratefully, she hasn't felt her skin crawl with the urge to itch the entire time he's had his face there, pressed between her thighs, and she wants to drag out the small relief for as long as possible.

her hips move again, but this time it's to help his fingers--the idle teasing feels nice, but the hint, the gesture of what they could do is what drives her to squeeze at his hair, as though she's getting his attention; her voice is breathy but warm, commanding only in the sense that she knows what she wants and knows that he wants to give it, anyway. )

Would you put your fingers... ( she probably doesn't have to say it: there's a faint smile, but it's as she looks down at him, and then lets her head roll, slightly, long tresses of hair and the adornments in it shifting with the effort. ) Inside?

( and in case he needs more encouragement-- ) I'd like to feel you there when I come.

[It's funny, really. He's not used to this in the least, from the position and act to how she speaks, how she makes her requests. It's a little warmer somehow, more careful and almost... demure, somehow, in spite of the request.

She's correct - he doesn't really need further prompting, and it's almost embarrassing, hearing it in the open air. Even so, it doesn't even slow him down. His gaze is hard to read but his actions are not,
efforts doubled up just the same.

That comes on the heels of complying with her request, fingers testing her entrance before sliding inside, grazing along her inner walls as if searching. He doesn't know if there's an equivalent, and ultimately it doesn't matter - as he sucks and laps at her clit and hood, his fingers are more for extra stimulation than anything. Warm, not entirely gentle... but when he does find her g-spot, she can bet he'll abuse it to help get her off.

Ah... it's a lot louder, too, he thinks. She's so wet, and the ease is almost enviable really. He doesn't think overmuch on the subject though, not with her hand gripping his hair to guide him and her body moving against the actions he's taking.

Yeah... he thinks he could do this more often, under the right circumstances.]

( likely it's not something that he does often--and yet she benefits from that inexperience with the way that his fingers move, in that they're searching, teasing, brushing inside of her as though he's learning his way rather than just plunging in with reckless abandon. he's gentle, in some respects, and yet forward enough that it's nothing too soft: in fact, the further that his fingers move, the more that she thinks he's precisely determined enough about it to help push her over the edge. she's not thinking too hard about their surroundings, or about guiding him, in that moment; it's more about letting herself surrender to the feeling that she so rarely surrenders to by herself, let alone with other people. ethan is getting a special show, a special experience--they both are, in that respect, she thinks. and it's enjoyable to her in a way that's hard to put to words.

his mouth moves as dutifully as his fingers, and it's the combined effort of them, the combined stimulation, that ironically feels best. would he like it to be more than just his fingers there, more than his tongue lapping at her clit, teasing around against the damp press of her skin? she's not sure, and she wouldn't judge him for it either way. her hips move with his tongue, meeting him there, though his effort is more than enough, and her fingers go tighter in his hair, tugging carefully in warning.

it doesn't matter too much--it's just that her body goes tight around him, his fingers pressed in with the effort of her orgasm; it's just that her voice betrays her into a rush of sound, a moan that falls into the air with an almost delicate grace, warm and full of pleasure, as if she's finally been able to push past the calculating of her thoughts. her hips press into the touch, squeezing and going soft with each pulse of pleasure, a soft breath as she steadies herself, and her hand, and forces her fingers to go slack, brushing carefully back through ethan's hair as though in slight apology. it's sensitive enough there, between her thighs, that she almost coaxes his face back, tilts her own head and glances down at him with a faint smile. )

Well, that is certainly worth a return favor...

( with a soft laugh. after all, she doesn't feel itchy at all anymore. )

Are you alright?

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