The Symphony of Shadow

17: 'The Art of Her Soul'

Possible triggers: smut (masturbation)

The two of them went to their rooms that night with lingering smiles upon their faces.

The two of them took of their clothes with a little more haste than would be usual.

Gwyn, went to her chest of drawers, reaching for a package she discretely ordered to the library from Velaris earlier this week. She opened it to reveal a set of midnight blue, lacy undergarments, that as of yet she hadn't worn due to her nerves.

But her confidence had peaked tonight, and so she slipped it on, then went to observe herself in the mirror. She found it strange to be so bare, to have underwear that left little to he imagination, to have a bra which held up her breasts nicely, letting them swell.

Her bright eyes watched her body in the mirror, her hair loose and tickling her skin. Gwyn felt nervous, but comfortable to be in her own skin for once.

Azriel on the other hand, had remained wholly naked, and had gone to lie on the centre of his bed so that he starred up to the ceiling. He'd closed his eyes, and begun to image her – his Gwyn.

He imagined those unruly legs of hers wrapped around him as he fucked her hard, imagined her moans, which were quickly joined by the very real sounds of his own, as he brought his hand down over his very-hard cock, working it fast.

Gwyn had brought her pillow from her bed down onto he floor, watching herself in the mirror, imagining it was Azriel – naked with her – telling her what to do.

She'd placed a hand beneath her clit, then rolled her hips over the pillow in a way so that it would allow for her fingers to hit her clit in a way that brought her close to release every time – but never quite close enough, for she had still not orgasmed as of yet.

Gwyn pressed the pillow tighter and tighter against her folds, as if she could somehow fit it inside of her.

Azriel imagined Gwyn on top of him, fucking him hard.

She controlled him entirely, even if she wasn't even in the room.

He imagined her breasts bouncing as she went; imagined sucking upon her pebbled nipples.

Gwyn imagined Azriel everywhere at once – as though he was desperate for every inch of her. He was in her mouth, her pussy, her ass – all at once.

She imagined that he was pleasuring himself with her, somewhere else in Velaris. She imagined that somehow time wasn't a thing that separated them, and that they would find release as one.

Azriel moaned louder and louder as his orgasm built up, purposely holding himself of for a moment in hopes of a stronger release – a wish which was granted to him...

Gwyn imagined Azriel as he came – loud. She worked herself until she found a specific rhythm in a specific spot which set her on fire – telling herself that this was what riding his face would be like, letting herself picture it in great detail.

And that was her undoing.

Azriel came for the first time, rolling his eyes back and letting out a few satisfied groans as he went. After that, he remained pumping himself, picturing Gwyn working him still, and came again, moaning her name.

Gwyn lay curled up on he floor afterward, snuggled against the pillow, panting. She went over the memory over and over; that utter satisfaction.

The priestess chuckled to herself – she had done it. It may have been a little step, which wouldn't have affected some, but she wasn't trying to catch up with other's expectations. She was trying to progress. Something she'd succeeded in doing that night.