[ The sight of her biting her lip may be unfair to Thoma, but in Ori's mind, what's truly unfair are the specters of kisses he leaves on her, and the heat of his breath on her as he sighs. She's powerless against the one that escapes from her own lips at that, and then soon enough, Diluc pulls her other hand away from her cheek to plant a kiss of his own there.
What's truly unfair is the way that Diluc's voice sounds in her ear, quiet and low and disarming in a way that she's never heard him sound before. She's powerless against his gentle grasp and turns readily to face him, her eyes half-lidded and her lips parted in a silent plea for the kiss she's come to anticipate.
What's unbelievably unfair is the way that she can feel, not hear the words that Thoma says against her bare skin.
With how tired she had been after waking from the dreamscape, she had forgotten to adorn her tresses with flowers as she normally does— but it's all the same, for the heat of what her lovers do and say in these moments cause small buds to sprout in the waves of her long hair. She is a flower, caught and captive and waiting to bloom in the midst of their flames, liable to catch fire and burn beautifully for her sun and her moon.
She doesn't have a chance to respond to either of them in words - which is all for the better, as she has nothing more eloquent to say than "I'm yours, too" - before Diluc begins to kiss her in earnest. But she has a chance to respond in what her body does, whether she even realizes what she's doing or not. Against his lips, she moans softly, and her eyes slip shut as though she takes his instruction to heart. And in his lap, her hips and her tail move as she squirms in just the slightest way against him and against Thoma, too. She reaches with one hand to bury her fingers into the back of Thoma's neck, where the longest parts of his hair falls so handsomely, and with her other hand she reaches up to lace her fingers with Diluc's.
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What's truly unfair is the way that Diluc's voice sounds in her ear, quiet and low and disarming in a way that she's never heard him sound before. She's powerless against his gentle grasp and turns readily to face him, her eyes half-lidded and her lips parted in a silent plea for the kiss she's come to anticipate.
What's unbelievably unfair is the way that she can feel, not hear the words that Thoma says against her bare skin.
With how tired she had been after waking from the dreamscape, she had forgotten to adorn her tresses with flowers as she normally does— but it's all the same, for the heat of what her lovers do and say in these moments cause small buds to sprout in the waves of her long hair. She is a flower, caught and captive and waiting to bloom in the midst of their flames, liable to catch fire and burn beautifully for her sun and her moon.
She doesn't have a chance to respond to either of them in words - which is all for the better, as she has nothing more eloquent to say than "I'm yours, too" - before Diluc begins to kiss her in earnest. But she has a chance to respond in what her body does, whether she even realizes what she's doing or not. Against his lips, she moans softly, and her eyes slip shut as though she takes his instruction to heart. And in his lap, her hips and her tail move as she squirms in just the slightest way against him and against Thoma, too. She reaches with one hand to bury her fingers into the back of Thoma's neck, where the longest parts of his hair falls so handsomely, and with her other hand she reaches up to lace her fingers with Diluc's.
Spirits, it's all just so unfair. ]