Fanfic:The First Seduction of Daimor
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Saphire smiled and watched as he carefully pulled the laces from her bodice. It was one of her secret notes of pride. I've always believed I was blessed with an impressive bosom for a noble Andorean girl. When he loosened the strings just below halfway down the row she took in a deep breath. Her eyes rolled back in relaxation and relief. It always feels so wonderful to take that first full deep breath after half pants all day, especially after sparing. Daimor glanced into her eyes in question, and she nodded, letting him take her hands to his chest. Her smile widened and she stepped closer. Her fingers nimbly pulled at the strings to loosen them, but with care at a slow pace. She saw his collar bone from behind the laces and it peaked her curiosity.
Her emerald eyes flickered up to his sky-blue, then with a grin of anticipation, she gathered the bottom edge of his shirt in her hands and lifted it over his head. Some voice in the back of her mind reminded her that this was . . naughty by her customs. But the sight of his smooth skin in curves of well-defined muscle, but not bulky or overworked . . it made her question why she would ever consider thwaping him for shirtlessness. Alondra does say I am the most conservative of the Broom-sisters. Burn Andorean noble custom! Saphire noticed the faint scars along his chest from battle and a longer one along his left arm near his dragon tattoo. Again her soul sang to be with him, a fellow warrior, yet balanced with wisdom and kindness of heart. Saphire met his eyes again with love that filled her from toes to fingertips and up through her head. She stood on her toes in an unlaced bodice and gently removed the hadorai from his brow, then set it aside with his shirt.
She absorbed every detail. The strands of his ruddy hair as they hung loosely over his face, the feel of his hands against her waist as he removed the now unlaced bodice from her, the metallic dragon that glittered on his arm in the soft candlelight. The details only made her desire him all the more. She realized why her people and class held such tight reigns on what one was allowed to do before marriage. It's hard to resist . . she admitted. But she felt love too, and although it fanned the flames, it also tempered them. I can wait. She assured herself with a soft sigh . . . and wondered how he felt, just before he drew her into a kiss.
Saphire simply melted there in her love's arms. Her head swam in an ocean of emotion. The frustration and pressure from the day simply . . evaporated . . as his lips met hers. Faintly she remembered falling in love with him so quickly it made her head spin as it was now. And then he stepped back slowly. His face again asking silently if she wished to continue.
Granted, there was a slight twinge in her gut. But it was mostly from lack of experience. She was not used to drawing the line here. As an Andorean child, noble none the less, she had been raised to uphold the custom that no man should see her unclothed unless they were married (because there were no bars to their action then, they would be as one). Now that she had bent or broken customs from her land, and begun to embrace Daimor's, it was difficult to know where to begin and end. But she knew what she wanted. She was sure of it. And it was not just the flames of passion or relief from the day. There was a greater desire to be closer with him.
Saphire gave him a full-fledged playful grin then. Her arms crossed and she griped the shift in her hands. She pulled and the white fabric came up over her head and then was a bundle in her hands. Saphire looked to the chair where their clothes hung and tossed her shift to it, the gems in her hair chimed. But even as she stood there, absolutely sure she wanted to do this, a blush rose to her cheeks. Light, no one has seen me without clothes since . . Ilya? Over a decade ago . . Saphire drew closer and dismissed the thought. Hush. Your hair is still tied up.
She was of average height for an Andorean but uncommonly curvy. So while her legs and arms were slim with fine muscle tone, her hips swayed. (One might even have recognized the Domani from a great-grandmother in Saphire by the way she walked to Daimor.) Even behind the remaining smudges of dust on various extremities her pale skin was soft in the flickering candlelight. She drew her hand up and cupped his cheek in her palm. Whispering, "I'm sure." and then lightly kissed him.
Turning to the tub, she looked over her shoulder with a knowing smile and twinkling eyes. Saphire walked for all of her grace towards the hot bath. His own embrace of my culture. She realized, and stepped in slowly. Saphire eased in with a long soft sigh as the hot water surrounded her up to the neck. With a gentle loving smile she winked at him, and waited, watching in anticipation.
