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ways_back_room2004-09-11 01:20 am
dramaturgca.livejournal.com) wrote in ways_back_room2004-09-11 01:20 am
Teh Wet!Muse Smut
The long-promised wet!Muse smut. Appropriate given the weather here, it's pouring buckets.
Title: Wet Muses and Artists' Hands
Pairing: Sario Grijalva-Euterpe Aoide
Fandom: Milliways
Rating: Hard R, possibly NC-17
Notes: This scene follows the thread here
Wet Muses and Artists’ Hands
They’re both soaking wet, thanks to the rain cloud Tere borrowed from her father. They stumble through the painting, locked in a passionate embrace. Her hair falls in long ropes to her waist and slaps against her back, bared by the low scoop of her gown. His shirt is soaked and the fine linen might as well not be there as she runs her hands up and down his chest.
She is breathing heavily when she breaks away from the kiss. “You were right, Sario. It’s very hot in here. It’s a wonder you get any work done at all.” She spins away from him to look at the new works he has started since last she was here. “Mmmm...I like this one. It’s lovely. Of course, they’re all lovely. You’ve such talent, Sario, so much Gift.” She looks back at him, still standing exactly where he was when she moved away. “Sario?”
He is utterly frozen by the sight of her, standing dripping in his atelierro and smiling at him. “Tere meya...Come here, amora.” He holds out a hand in a courtly gesture, as if inviting her to dance. The look in his eyes is powerful and passionate, his mask has dropped, and all that remains is a man in love.
She takes the two steps necessary to place her hand in his and nearly gasps at the heat of his fingers on her rain wet skin. He looks down at her hand and raises it gracefully to his lips, pressing soft, openmouthed kisses on each fingertip and her palm, before trailing up her wrist. “Sario...Sario...Matra ei Filho, Sario!” Her eyes are half-closed and the look of pleasure on her face is almost feline. She maneuvers around and meets his mouth with hers. Her hands slide up his shirtfront and she begins to flip open the buttons. “My Sario...I love the way that sounds...My Sario, will you love me?”
His heart, which had been thundering against her palm, skips suddenly. She slips the shirt off his shoulders and luxuriates in tracing the line of his collarbone and running rain and sweat slicked fingers over his abdomen.
Tonight you're mine completely.
You give your love so sweetly.
Tonight the light of love is in your eyes.
But will you love me tomorrow?
Is this a lasting treasure?
Or just a moment's pleasure?
Can I believe the magic of your sighs?
Will you still love me tomorrow?
Tonight with words unspoken.
You say that I'm the only one.
But will my heart be broken?
When the night meets the morning sun?
“Amora meya, I will love you tonight and tomorrow and as long as you will have me.” He walks her backwards until the backs of her knees hit the edge of the bed. He holds her there and gently brushes the straps of her gown off her shoulder. Long artist’s fingers track the path of the gown down her arms and slide it over her hips to pool at her feet. She stands before him in a strapless black lace teddy that seems to be held on by magic alone. His breath catches in his throat and his fingers begin to mould her lace-covered form, as if she were a sculpture in progress. For several moments, they are both absorbed in exploring the expanses of exposed flesh. Finally, his hands come to rest on her back; he finds the teddy’s clasp and flicks it open. Slowly, gently, he eases away the last barrier between her skin and the air. She steps closer, sliding sensuously against his bare chest. “Come to bed, amoro meyo...Use your Gift on me...”
He smiles and it is almost boyish, a look of fun and laughter overlaid with a dark intensity that would be frightening to most caught in its gaze; for Tere, it sets the blood coursing through her veins, tempting her skin to a rosy flush. He catches her around the waist and pulls her to the bed, turning so that his body cushions hers. “Guivaerra meya, you inspire me to my best work.” His fingers trace down the center of her body, leaving a trail of sensitized skin that cries out to be touched again. Gently, he caresses her sex and watches her eyes cloud over. He slides a long finger into her and she bites back a scream of pleasure. When he adds a second finger, she shatters around him and melts onto his chest, panting. “Sario meyo...unfair...you still have clothes on...” He grins at her and gently rolls her onto the mattress so that he can rise and strip off his pants. He looks down at her, sprawled on his bed, glowing and satiated, and has to close his eyes over the sudden exhilarating wave of possessiveness and love that flows through him. He lays down beside her and begins to stroke her hip gently. She responds instantly, rolling onto her side and gliding her hand up his leg to caress him, feeling him harden under her light, insistent touches. He gasps slightly, but continues what he was doing, tracing patterns in the sweat slicking her skin. She doesn’t know it, but he is writing the words for art and love in the lingua oscurra over and over again across her breasts and over her back. When he is so hard he can no longer stand it, he rolls her over and slips into her. For a moment, they both hold, lost in the first heady instant of joining. Slowly, luxuriously, she rolls her hips and sets an easy rhythm. He follows and then quickens the pace, so that soon they are both gasping. She rolls on top of him and her long, cool, wet hair wraps around both of them, a sharp contrast to their heated skin. In the moment before her climax, she closes her eyes and throws back her head. Then, they both reach the peak and collapse into each other, panting and sated. Several minutes later, Tere looks up from her place on Sario’s chest. She is smiling softly and her eyes are glowing.
I want you to know
The time that we've spent
How great it's been
How much it's meant
Zeus, I don't know what to say
I've never really felt this way
And I'm afraid
That I like you more
Than I've ever liked
Any guy before...
“I love you, my Sario.” He brushes back her hair gently and presses his mouth to hers. “Amora meya, my sweet Muse. Sleep now.” Still joined, they drift into slumber together. The candles gutter down, unseen, as Arrtio and Muse ride the sea of dreams.
(X-posted to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dramaturgcaand ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
millirific)
Title: Wet Muses and Artists' Hands
Pairing: Sario Grijalva-Euterpe Aoide
Fandom: Milliways
Rating: Hard R, possibly NC-17
Notes: This scene follows the thread here
Wet Muses and Artists’ Hands
They’re both soaking wet, thanks to the rain cloud Tere borrowed from her father. They stumble through the painting, locked in a passionate embrace. Her hair falls in long ropes to her waist and slaps against her back, bared by the low scoop of her gown. His shirt is soaked and the fine linen might as well not be there as she runs her hands up and down his chest.
She is breathing heavily when she breaks away from the kiss. “You were right, Sario. It’s very hot in here. It’s a wonder you get any work done at all.” She spins away from him to look at the new works he has started since last she was here. “Mmmm...I like this one. It’s lovely. Of course, they’re all lovely. You’ve such talent, Sario, so much Gift.” She looks back at him, still standing exactly where he was when she moved away. “Sario?”
He is utterly frozen by the sight of her, standing dripping in his atelierro and smiling at him. “Tere meya...Come here, amora.” He holds out a hand in a courtly gesture, as if inviting her to dance. The look in his eyes is powerful and passionate, his mask has dropped, and all that remains is a man in love.
She takes the two steps necessary to place her hand in his and nearly gasps at the heat of his fingers on her rain wet skin. He looks down at her hand and raises it gracefully to his lips, pressing soft, openmouthed kisses on each fingertip and her palm, before trailing up her wrist. “Sario...Sario...Matra ei Filho, Sario!” Her eyes are half-closed and the look of pleasure on her face is almost feline. She maneuvers around and meets his mouth with hers. Her hands slide up his shirtfront and she begins to flip open the buttons. “My Sario...I love the way that sounds...My Sario, will you love me?”
His heart, which had been thundering against her palm, skips suddenly. She slips the shirt off his shoulders and luxuriates in tracing the line of his collarbone and running rain and sweat slicked fingers over his abdomen.
Tonight you're mine completely.
You give your love so sweetly.
Tonight the light of love is in your eyes.
But will you love me tomorrow?
Is this a lasting treasure?
Or just a moment's pleasure?
Can I believe the magic of your sighs?
Will you still love me tomorrow?
Tonight with words unspoken.
You say that I'm the only one.
But will my heart be broken?
When the night meets the morning sun?
“Amora meya, I will love you tonight and tomorrow and as long as you will have me.” He walks her backwards until the backs of her knees hit the edge of the bed. He holds her there and gently brushes the straps of her gown off her shoulder. Long artist’s fingers track the path of the gown down her arms and slide it over her hips to pool at her feet. She stands before him in a strapless black lace teddy that seems to be held on by magic alone. His breath catches in his throat and his fingers begin to mould her lace-covered form, as if she were a sculpture in progress. For several moments, they are both absorbed in exploring the expanses of exposed flesh. Finally, his hands come to rest on her back; he finds the teddy’s clasp and flicks it open. Slowly, gently, he eases away the last barrier between her skin and the air. She steps closer, sliding sensuously against his bare chest. “Come to bed, amoro meyo...Use your Gift on me...”
He smiles and it is almost boyish, a look of fun and laughter overlaid with a dark intensity that would be frightening to most caught in its gaze; for Tere, it sets the blood coursing through her veins, tempting her skin to a rosy flush. He catches her around the waist and pulls her to the bed, turning so that his body cushions hers. “Guivaerra meya, you inspire me to my best work.” His fingers trace down the center of her body, leaving a trail of sensitized skin that cries out to be touched again. Gently, he caresses her sex and watches her eyes cloud over. He slides a long finger into her and she bites back a scream of pleasure. When he adds a second finger, she shatters around him and melts onto his chest, panting. “Sario meyo...unfair...you still have clothes on...” He grins at her and gently rolls her onto the mattress so that he can rise and strip off his pants. He looks down at her, sprawled on his bed, glowing and satiated, and has to close his eyes over the sudden exhilarating wave of possessiveness and love that flows through him. He lays down beside her and begins to stroke her hip gently. She responds instantly, rolling onto her side and gliding her hand up his leg to caress him, feeling him harden under her light, insistent touches. He gasps slightly, but continues what he was doing, tracing patterns in the sweat slicking her skin. She doesn’t know it, but he is writing the words for art and love in the lingua oscurra over and over again across her breasts and over her back. When he is so hard he can no longer stand it, he rolls her over and slips into her. For a moment, they both hold, lost in the first heady instant of joining. Slowly, luxuriously, she rolls her hips and sets an easy rhythm. He follows and then quickens the pace, so that soon they are both gasping. She rolls on top of him and her long, cool, wet hair wraps around both of them, a sharp contrast to their heated skin. In the moment before her climax, she closes her eyes and throws back her head. Then, they both reach the peak and collapse into each other, panting and sated. Several minutes later, Tere looks up from her place on Sario’s chest. She is smiling softly and her eyes are glowing.
I want you to know
The time that we've spent
How great it's been
How much it's meant
Zeus, I don't know what to say
I've never really felt this way
And I'm afraid
That I like you more
Than I've ever liked
Any guy before...
“I love you, my Sario.” He brushes back her hair gently and presses his mouth to hers. “Amora meya, my sweet Muse. Sleep now.” Still joined, they drift into slumber together. The candles gutter down, unseen, as Arrtio and Muse ride the sea of dreams.
(X-posted to
dramaturgcaand millirific)