Aspel Cassul: When in doubt, Aspel! (weaponry) wrote in emillion, @ 2014-08-23 19:45:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !log, arielle chiaro, aspel cassul |
I’ll take your need for something, and we can take our time...
Who: Ari & Aspel
What: They’re drunk, whoops.
Where: Aspel’s place
When: After the summer ball
Rating: R-ish. Not explicit but... yeah.
Status: IT’S A TRAP!
The evening had been pleasant enough. It was filled with spirits, banter, flirting, and more than a little teasing. There were also the games of chaste affection with looks filled with promises of more later. Regardless of how much anticipation she’d felt, Aspel had continued to play along on both sides of this equation, enjoying such a simple and carefree night. Really, when was the last time they’d had a chance at one of these at all? It was bothersome that her memory couldn’t come up with anything closer than well… Pisces? Perhaps early Aries if she thought about it particularly hard but… Aspel didn’t really care to think of Aries at all if given much of a choice. Either way, there had been dancing, and food, and drinking, and… Well. Other things. That had made it a rather good night thus far. Though, of course, that was only the beginning and assuredly, it would quite soon get better from what Aspel could piece together as they worked their way through the streets back to Aspel’s apartment. There was some giggle or another from Ari, as Aspel’s hands shifted, groping at the other woman’s body in an attempt to be secretive, but the appropriate lack of tact - even if she thought she was having it - was there from the ingested drinks as they turned the corner down the path to The Armory. “Come here.” Aspel whispered, a low, desire filled lust for the bard had seeped its way into her tone, mixing thickly with her - rather pronounced thanks to the liquor - accent as a hand reached out, strongly pulling at the other woman’s arm in attempts to draw Ari close to her. If given the chance, the smith would lean down, beginning a trail of eager kisses along the side of the bard’s neck as fingers began to tenderly roam down over the other woman’s side, attempting to slip underneath cloth. There was another giggle from Ari, cut off with an appreciative hum as Aspel’s lips found her skin. She was just drunk enough to seriously consider the side of a rather major thoroughfare a perfectly acceptable place for Aspel’s hands to make it under her filmsy summer dress. Her own hands rested low on the other woman’s hips, too low, really, for propriety (but when had she ever been concerned with that?). Drunk enough, too, to simply laugh when an appreciative whistle sounded from a lone passing hovercab (apparently the passengers didn’t object to the free show), and murmur, “Maybe we should… find an alley. Or your shop’s counter.” Another breathy laugh as she found Aspel’s ear with her lips, whispered, “I’m not particularly picky.” It was a good night -- lighthearted and easy and so very similar to the way things had been before that she could nearly forget all of those troubles and the subsequent revelations. She could just press close and enjoy the spinning of the world and the beating of her heart and the closeness of the other woman. For tonight, it could be this simple. The feel of hands on her on her hips earned a muffled moan against the bard's skin before a nip was administered, thoughts of leaving a mark only paused by Ari's words as the whistle had been relegated to mere background noise in her own mind. Another muffled moan was cut off when Ari's lips found her ear. The roaming of hands in search of skin paused only long enough for another nip to be administered to the side of the bard's neck before Aspel - only slightly - pulled back. "I want you." Came the desire filled and low whisper before a kiss against the other woman's lips was stolen, which only ended with a lean back to allow speech once more. "Whichever is quickest." A beat, another kiss. "Or best." The decision of quick and best now was completely left in Ari's hands. “Good.” Even having heard the words before, they sent a thrill straight to Ari’s core. She leaned in, took another kiss (it spun out a bit too long -- perhaps the alley wasn’t such a poor idea, but --), murmured, “I want you too. Come with me.” Her hands moved from Aspel’s hips, one grabbing the other woman’s palm, fingers entwining as she pulled her once again down the street. There was barely a block to go, surely they could wait that long. There was a great deal of fumbling and several increasingly heated kisses and a door that seemed very stubborn, to the point that Ari’s dress was nearly up around her waist by the time they got it open, and even the counter seemed too far to go. Sometimes, it was like this, flash and fire and need, right now, and it really wasn’t so very much later that they found themselves sprawled on the shop’s floor, breathing uneven, limbs loose, clothing strewn every which way. Ari attempted to prop herself up on her elbows, closing her eyes as everything lurched. “The room is spinning,” she admitted, still a bit breathless. “I wonder if it’s the wine?” I wonder if it’s just you? A low throaty chuckle was earned at the statement as Aspel rolled onto her side, not even bothering to attempt to right herself other than leaning forward a bit more so that she could place a kiss against whatever bit of Ari’s skin was closest to her. “Perhaps it is.” Another kiss was lazily drug across the bard’s skin without much thought. Though, there was undoubtedly desire there. A desire for feeling the other woman’s skin, for closeness, for Ari’s company specifically, for… Well, she didn’t entirely know, but Ari was here, and Aspel very much didn’t want to let the chance of enveloping herself in the other woman’s touch, attention and time slip away - for even a second - if she could manage so much. Shifting an arm was slung over Ari’s waist, fingers beginning to absently caress over whatever part of the other woman’s skin that they came in contact with. A thought flashed by about how they both ought to get some sleep but…. Something childish and selfish shoved the idea off. Spending time with Ari awake, even if it was a terribly exhausted and adorable babbling Ari, seemed much more appealing regardless. Using her arm to pull the bard a bit closer, Aspel shifted up a bit for a proper kiss, and then shifted back with a contented sigh upon its break. “I believe the solution may just be another drink.” The tone came off joking, and well… It was at least in part a joke. There was some appeal to the idea of simply… staying here, just letting things be the way they really hadn’t been in far too long. As tempting as that was, though, with the rush of passion wearing of now, Ari was becoming quite cognizant of the floor below her being very hard and not especially clean (unsurprising, for such a public portion of Aspel’s space). Even all but pulling herself off the floor and nearly on top of Aspel would only go so far to mitigate the situation. She leaned in for the kiss willingly, but when they pulled apart and Aspel spoke again, she had to laugh. “I could drink more,” she decided on the spot. Drunk or not, she had nowhere to be, no work to do, nothing to stop her. “You might need to assist me,” she added, considering the slight swaying of the room for a moment. “Your floor is perfect for all manner of things, but for drinking, i do think your couch might be better. The one downside is it’s up all those stairs.” “Then drink more we shall.” Another low chuckle rumbled in her throat, muted slightly by a closed mouth. “I do believe the stairs shall be the least concerning thing of tonight.” There was a wicked smirk across her lips before the sentence was even finished, and a look filled with desire for the other woman cast upon her. The world felt an odd place tonight, but… It was a sort of oddness Aspel almost thought she could get used to in some odd way. With a low hum the smith pulled herself from the floor, glancing around momentarily at the strewn clothing before simply ignoring it all, and offering Ari a hand up. It would take a moment to assure the door was locked, and then head towards the back room, and a few moments more to - drunkenly - work their way up the stairs. Which of course was wonderfully assisted with several ‘accidental’ gropings and false apologies betrayed by wicked smirks. “Did you have preference on what to drink?” Was the first sincere speech out of her mouth once they’d successfully overcome the stairs. A kiss was stolen as Aspel shifted, beginning to look towards the kitchen. “I have a few wines, a bottle of Kerwonian spirits, mead…” Then there was some particularly hard stuff she’d picked up a couple months ago but… Well, that was better not thought of. Ari tottered after Aspel (these shoes had been far easier to walk in before the world had started spinning) but she persevered in the end, though she leaned against the other woman rather a lot. Granted, this wasn’t strictly for purposes of balance, and surely it was a mutually enjoyable experience, so what did it matter, really? They’d make it to the couch in the end. Utterly unabashed, Ari gave Aspel’s backside an appreciative squeeze before letting her go, finding her own balance for the first time since they’d begun their trek up the stairs. “If you have a nice red, I’ll take it.” Even if she probably wouldn’t be capable of appreciating a truly nice vintage in this state. “If not, I’ll have what you’re having.” She collapsed onto the couch, legs dangling over one of the sides, and attempted to kick off her shoes (which were strapped onto her feet, making this task impossible). “Since you’re nice enough to bring me a drink and give me such a nice view while you’re at it.” A bite at her own lip was taken on a muffled moan with Ari’s hand seeming to have decided it had free reign. Not that the smith minded one bit. “There is a red.” Now, what the quality of the wine actually was… Well… It would be at least decent, but probably not particularly fine. With that thought, the notion of Ari having whatever Aspel partook in was waved off. There would be red for the bard, and mead for the smith, it wasn’t a terribly difficult task to accomplish. Or well… Aspel hadn’t thought it would be until she realized she’d need to bring the bottles, and drinking glasses, and appropriate opening implements. If only she had another four hands. Thankfully, the drunken stupor would be worked though. Especially, after Aspel remembered she had a tray in which everything could be put on and carried back into the living room with. “Is that it?” A low chuckle was given as the tray was brought back into the room, and the smith watched Ari laying on her couch. A thought spiked, and… Drinks. They had said they wanted drinks. Shifting the tray would be set on the coffee table, and Aspel would take up a spot on the couch as she very carefully began to attempt to drunkenly concentrate so that nothing would be spilled or broken while she attempted to pour them both drinks. “If you keep up as you are much longer, I make no promises for what I may be forced to do.” A brief glance was given to Ari over Aspel’s own arm as hands worked on the bottle of red, with desire still quite present in her eyes. In response, Ari offered only a slightly exaggerated lick of her lips (whether at the wine or at the woman was perhaps a bit debatable) and asked, “Did it not occur to you that you may simply be playing into my plan? Perhaps I like it when you look at me like that.” A small smile. She was a bit blurry around the edges, certainly, but flirting with Aspel was nearly second nature by now. “Perhaps,” she mused, “I like it rather a lot.” Rather alarmingly a lot. “And so,” she drawled, reaching out her hand, wiggling her fingers in a very clear gesture indicating she wanted something, “wine. My compliments to the sommelier for the selection.” And never mind that she hadn’t bothered to read the label -- any red in such lovely company would certainly do. The words, actions, and smile wouldn’t be missed. Though, with words and looks like that, the wine was nearly entirely forgotten - regardless of the indication for it - and Aspel shifted, leaning in for a kiss. “Do you?” Came a low murmur as she barely pulled back, hand absently letting the bottle come to rest against the table, her mind nearly having blocked it out again. And another kiss. “What else do you like?” Ari really had been looking forward to the wine, but in the end, the attention would win out. “Hmm…” Her hand came up to frame Aspel’s face, tangling in hair that was rather disheveled already (and why was even something so simple strangely endearing?), and the second kiss served quite well to almost -- but not quite -- distract her from the question at hand, so that when their lips parted, the answer slipped out, simple and unbidden: “You.” At which point she was only barely sober enough to realize she was probably saying things she shouldn’t (the balance between them seemed to hold only so long as they did not talk about these things at all) and, well… perhaps another kiss might simply distract Aspel from talk altogether. Really, the idea of being debauched on the couch right about now held massive appeal, and had the added benefit of glossing right over the slip. With the slightest turn of head, a soft kiss would be pressed to Ari's palm before Aspel would shift leaning her head into the hand once again. "It would seem we hold interests which align." Another shift in her seated posture would allow her to pull at the bard, attempting to pull the other woman closer for another kiss. “Well, that’s…” another kiss, and she shifted her weight for comfort and maybe a bit for closeness. Perhaps this was as close as they ever would come, with words. Perhaps that was best for both of them. At least she hadn’t entirely destroyed the rather pleasant mood… She still hadn’t finished her sentence, though really she was too muddled for perfect word choices; she knew at the very least that a little bit terrifying wasn’t the right thing to say as their lips parted again. She settled, finally, on, “...very fortunate for us, no?” "I suspect so." Nothing had changed in Aspel's tone or body language as she continued this conversation. There was still desire there, honesty, and just a bit - a tiny bit really - of playfulness as a hand began to roam over the front of Ari's body absently in soft, long strokes. Leaning in a kiss would be placed where jaw and neck connected before she whispered in the bard's ear. "There is much which is fortunate for us." And with that teeth would be dragged gingerly over the other woman's earlobe. “Hmm,” Ari drawled thoughtfully, on the verge of simply saying nothing else on the matter (it would be easy enough, she thought, to distract from this or any topic right about now), but in the end, alcohol always had made her chatty (a reason she kept her network device off when she’d been drinking, lest she be tempted to overshare), and Aspel’s ministrations were enjoyable but not fully distracting. “I suppose that is the -- bewildering -- truth,” she murmured at last, hand still tangled in the other woman’s hair, fingers stroking slightly down the back of her neck. “Aren’t we… unexpectedly lucky?” If such a word could really be applied to this situation. Was it luck or something else entirely that kept them -- somehow, inexplicably -- bound together this way? Strange promises with exit clauses, words not spoken, luck… and the knowledge (at least on Ari’s part) that life without the other would be just short of unbearable. Lucky was too simple a concept. "Bewild-" the questioning word was cut in half with a low, sharp, shuddering inhale and shiver with Ari's fingers playing at the back of her neck. "-dering..?" A low hum was caught in her throat as Aspel shifted, hands gently beginning to roam the other woman's body while another kiss was placed at the juncture of Ari's neck and jawline once more. The instants before this were filled with a hot, burning need, and now all Aspel wished to do was to slowly enjoy each bit of the bard she could touch, smell, hear, and taste. So what if something like this would take a few hours? She couldn't even begin to find it in herself to care. "Luck is a word you could choose." “I chose all my words very carefully,” Ari murmured, stroking again at the spot which had elicited such a reaction. From bewildering to lucky, she had chosen them to say more or less the things she didn’t know how to say (didn’t know, in fact, if she ever could say in so many words). “Why?” she asked, curiosity and wine overcoming caution as she let her head drop back to allow Aspel better access to her neck, if she chose to take advantage of it. “What word would you choose instead?” Another slight shiver passed through Aspel’s form and she swallowed. Though the offered bit of neck would be gladly taken to place a series of slow, gentle kisses along. The question would not be lost, and a low hum vibrated in a kiss against Ari’s throat. “Mmm.” Shifting, the smith leaned up, placing a tender kiss against the other woman’s lips. “That is a rather difficult question, no?” Leaning in again, another kiss would be taken, this one slow and drawn out, seemingly completely unfussed by the conversation and situation at hand. When the kiss broken a thumb came up to caress over Ari’s cheek, a slight smirk pulling at one side of her mouth. “Blessed, I suspect.” “That is…” now it was Ari's turn to shiver, ever so slightly, “quite a strong word.” From very Pharist Aspel, especially. Blessed, were they? Perhaps... But the light kisses and caresses served to lull her into a sort of complacency; between the drink they had consumed earlier and the slow, lazy pace of this not quite lovemaking, Ari could simply let herself float on the moment. "I keep," another kiss, a stroke of her hands down Aspel’s bare back, "wanting to..." tell you; the words died on her lips, or perhaps she was distracted from them by skin she had yet to kiss -- a matter quickly rectified -- but the sentence ended, incomplete, "but I don't know how." "Is it?" There was a low, thoughtful amusement to Aspel's voice at the response her word choice had elicited. Regardless of the question posed to the other woman the smith wouldn't wait for a reply as she continued administration of languid, tender affections as she desired. Kisses trailed here, a long stroke of her hand there. Ari's own return of touch and kiss would earn low, pleased noises, a combination of purrs, hums, and soft moans that mostly reverberated in her throat. However, the broken sentence would be followed along with as well as she could but... "Wanting to..?" There was a touch of confusion, and a matching amount of curiosity posed in the two simple words but mostly an odd sort of encouragement for the other woman to complete the missing puzzle pieces that Aspel needed to make sense of it all as another kiss was gently placed against Ari's collar bone. "Just..." She was losing bits of sentences here and there, but could she be blamed for it, really? Against the shell of Aspel's ear, she admitted in a low murmur, "Words are hard. Even for me... sometimes." Sometimes especially for her, or so it seemed recently. "Especially when the room spins." "Mmmm." There came a slight throaty chuckle at the admission. "Ought I endeavor to make it not?" "Why?" The chuckle at her expense was not at all hurtful -- really Ari knew that she was quite ridiculous these days. She’d laugh at herself if she had the breath to spare (right now, she didn’t). “I find myself…” she arched her back, seeking closeness; one leg finding purchase by hooking over Aspel’s waist, “rather unexpectedly quite fond…” the next pause stretched out longer, time enough for another kiss or two, a caress, a sigh, but finally she finished, “...of the spinning.” Aspel was about to speak but found Ari had started again before she could even think of what question may be needed to ask. The bard’s reach would be rewarded as the smith shifted, moving closer to ease whatever it was that the other woman wanted. Whatever it was that Ari desired, Aspel quickly found herself wishing she could become the appropriate tool to deliver it with. Shifting, Aspel would lean in, moving to place a few short kisses against Ari’s lips, each one becoming a little more desire filled than before, before a whisper rose. “Then how may I assist in the maintenance of this spin?” But what Ari wanted for the moment, it seemed, was to tease and touch and kiss and caress, but for the moment, nothing more. Perhaps it was a test of her own limits, or the other woman’s -- her pulse was rapid and her breathing uneven, but she felt almost weightless as her lips pressed against Aspel’s again and again, answering the kisses and pulling her along, deeper into the strange, almost dreamlike state that had gripped the bard. She caught Aspel’s lower lip between her teeth for a moment, stroked over it with her tongue before releasing it and whispering back, “You already are.” Because wine or not, without Aspel, the room wouldn’t spin this way. Each attention given from the bard would earn an appropriate response. A sharp exhale, a cut off low moan, a shifting of muscles to lean into the touch more. That was, assuming, her own hands weren’t obstructed as they continued to leisurely roam over Ari’s body taking in every touch she could manage before it was too late and their night was done. Another moan, this one louder , and a hitch in her breath before she spoke. “And if I wished to continue it further?” A low pause as she leaned in, this kiss a bit more blustering than the ones before. “To make it more?” “It’s already… quite a lot.” Some days, it seemed like entirely too much for one hume to take (and this had stopped being about the spinning, or just about the spinning, some time ago -- the drunken meandering of the conversation had led Ari exactly where she dared not go, but she was too dazed to care). “Or is it… that you want me to hold tighter to you?” Because in spinning or in other matters, that was the only possible outcome as things intensified, and though neither of them were strangers to some temporary clinging, there were other sorts. "Would it please you to?" Pausing the wandering of hands, she shifted allowing a thumb to stroke languidly down the outside of one of Ari's breasts. Leaning in, a soft kiss would be placed at the corner of the bard's lips before a pleased murmur emerged. "I do rather like giving you what you want." “Right now, I have exactly what I want.” The words came out on a small sigh, as the almost maddeningly gently kisses and caresses continued. “You,” a pause, “here with me,” another, “right now.” In the moment, there was nothing else she wished for; the urgency of earlier was replaced with a languorous mood, and she intended to savor every moment of it. “I love it when you touch me that way.” Like she was something precious, treasured. These words, at least, were simple and easy to give in her current state. There was a swell within her chest at the explanation from Ari, one she couldn't place, didn't think much about, but it was warm, and quite nice. Just like this evening had been, not the same kind of nice but.... "Then I shall have to endeavor to always do so." The sentence carelessly, thoughtlessly fell from her lips, but with those words Aspel leaned in to take from Ari a slow, tender yet beginning to heat with desire sort of kiss. “Alw --” Perhaps it was better that Aspel’s lips cut off the question; Ari’s temporary moment of surprised stiffness came and went so quickly that perhaps it was not even noticed, and the kiss was answered with fervor. Perhaps the time for lazy touches and whispers was nearly at an end. And by the time they parted again for breath, she had an answer to give: “I will hold you to that.” That particular response to the kiss hadn’t been one expected, but Aspel had never been the sort to be fussed with that sort of thing either. While Ari may have approached it with intensity, the smith remained with a slow, and steady building heat of her own. When it broke, Aspel slowly inhaled, allowing a moment to raise a hand so that her thumb could gently stroke over one of Ari’s cheeks as the hand cupped the other woman’s face. “Please do.” If she were sober, perhaps Ari might have wondered at how far they had come that they could both make these drunken slips and drunken promises without panic (though arguably, if she were sober, there would have been panic after all), but in that moment she could simply enjoy the flood of warmth and happiness and affection. They were, it seemed to her, more aligned than not in their thoughts. The gentle teasing had had its effect on her, too; once Aspel had spoken, Ari pulled her back for another kiss, then said, her voice low, "Now, about giving me what I want..." Because not everything had to be complicated. |