[ and how smart he was. yennefer has always known that istredd's intelligence has always been his strongest skill, and if she were to be perfectly honest with herself, it was a good portion of what drew her to him to begin with. the idea that he could know so much, that he could constantly be reaching for more, and that he'd choose her above all else to share it with. that feeling had, of course, evolved into something much more complicated, much more layered, but his mind was always going to be a part of him - just as his pettiness, his manipulative abilities, his understanding of her.
a large part of yennefer is fully aware that she is - most likely - playing into exactly what he wanted. exactly what he planned. but there is a larger part of her that just needs this; this feeling of being wanted, of being confident in the safety of her own wanting in return. they have years and years of experience between them, but this is different. this is new. and the desperation in it has a wholly different kind of fire lit up under her skin.
she pulls him against her and he pushes their bodies back into the wall, the pressure of his body against her's the exact right amount of power, of strength, of him. his hands grasps at her and she can feel the heat linger, like lighting striking out across her skin. he hikes up her skirts and she isn't helping, pressing her hips and chest against him in the midst of it all, taking his lips between her teeth, reaching and tugging and moving in every way she can. she's hungry for this, hungry for the way he's reacting and the freedom in knowing she can just take it, and she's so swept up in that feeling that she barely notices the tearing of her underwear until it's too late.
it does not take her away from the task at hand, and as his hands wrap up under her and lifts, she curls her legs around his waits, laying back against the wall for leverage as she tightens her hold around his waist, holds herself up though she knows he could do it on his own. she lets her head fall back against the wall as his mouth finds her neck, a breathy laugh escaping her. ] I expect those to be replaced. [ and that is when he's pulling her away from the wall, walking them over to one of the beds there. she has no idea if it's his, or lucifer's, or if it even matters.
when he does set her down on the mattress, yennefer will take the opportunity to preen, stretching out in a way she knows works, drawing attention where she wants it drawn. her plan is to get another rise from him, to bring him back to that desperate, urgent hunger from moments before, and to keep that leash in her hands. it's why, when she does lean down and crawls on top of her, she doesn't immediately flip them. yet. instead, she bites down into her lower lip as his fingers brush against her, and her body lights up with it - arches, grasps, and then writhes in an attempt to get more movement out of him.
and yes, she knows that istredd is making a point with it. making a statement. and so yennefer is direct as she reaches for him, as she gets her hands in the collar of his tunic - the same place she'd used to start all of this - and makes direct eye contact with him as she grins, and then very specifically rips the fabric right down the middle. the tear doesn't go far, barely halfway down his chest, but she knows her point is made as she keeps her hands gripped tight around the fabric and, once again, drags his mouth to her own as she rolls her hips down into his fingers, her legs pressed against his sides. ]
no subject
a large part of yennefer is fully aware that she is - most likely - playing into exactly what he wanted. exactly what he planned. but there is a larger part of her that just needs this; this feeling of being wanted, of being confident in the safety of her own wanting in return. they have years and years of experience between them, but this is different. this is new. and the desperation in it has a wholly different kind of fire lit up under her skin.
she pulls him against her and he pushes their bodies back into the wall, the pressure of his body against her's the exact right amount of power, of strength, of him. his hands grasps at her and she can feel the heat linger, like lighting striking out across her skin. he hikes up her skirts and she isn't helping, pressing her hips and chest against him in the midst of it all, taking his lips between her teeth, reaching and tugging and moving in every way she can. she's hungry for this, hungry for the way he's reacting and the freedom in knowing she can just take it, and she's so swept up in that feeling that she barely notices the tearing of her underwear until it's too late.
it does not take her away from the task at hand, and as his hands wrap up under her and lifts, she curls her legs around his waits, laying back against the wall for leverage as she tightens her hold around his waist, holds herself up though she knows he could do it on his own. she lets her head fall back against the wall as his mouth finds her neck, a breathy laugh escaping her. ] I expect those to be replaced. [ and that is when he's pulling her away from the wall, walking them over to one of the beds there. she has no idea if it's his, or lucifer's, or if it even matters.
when he does set her down on the mattress, yennefer will take the opportunity to preen, stretching out in a way she knows works, drawing attention where she wants it drawn. her plan is to get another rise from him, to bring him back to that desperate, urgent hunger from moments before, and to keep that leash in her hands. it's why, when she does lean down and crawls on top of her, she doesn't immediately flip them. yet. instead, she bites down into her lower lip as his fingers brush against her, and her body lights up with it - arches, grasps, and then writhes in an attempt to get more movement out of him.
and yes, she knows that istredd is making a point with it. making a statement. and so yennefer is direct as she reaches for him, as she gets her hands in the collar of his tunic - the same place she'd used to start all of this - and makes direct eye contact with him as she grins, and then very specifically rips the fabric right down the middle. the tear doesn't go far, barely halfway down his chest, but she knows her point is made as she keeps her hands gripped tight around the fabric and, once again, drags his mouth to her own as she rolls her hips down into his fingers, her legs pressed against his sides. ]