The effect is immediate. Her head rolls back, her braid splashing back into the water as it drops away from her body. Finally, at long last, the tension she wants, the focus she wants. It does not feel half made, half worried. Feels like she's wanted.
Feels like those words are all her own, devoured hungrily, biting, as with the touch comes the more important permission, to return it. Sure that Magni's will not leave her, will not stop, when she feels them rock up to the third knuckle all at once, pressing bodily in, "it's yours," she chokes out, trying to suck a breath back in as the words curl all low.
Seldom does she know what passes behind her Jarl's eyes. Often she wonders, even now, even after she has been kissed more than once and thoroughly if those eyes linger on her as more than just a requirement of the position. "When I adorn my body, it is you I think of as I brush against myself, when I say our prayers, it is your name first on my lips. You, yours." She means to bite her neck, but when the fingers speed up, her head rolls, turning to nuzzle against Magni with parted lips, immeasurable now, she is only the things that Magni reduces her in this moment. Her voice growing louder and more disjointed in her cries. Her eyes falling shut like somehow it might drag this out longer but has no more effect than leaving her with how her body burns and the feeling of Magni's breath and touch and heat.
Because if there were servants hanging about to know whether this marriage was now consummated, there could be no mistaking her voice. Pitched high, desperate, guttural honest, she didn't know what she was working for, towards, when this fever would break, just that if it didn't she was never going to be able to stand even being brushed against again.
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Feels like those words are all her own, devoured hungrily, biting, as with the touch comes the more important permission, to return it. Sure that Magni's will not leave her, will not stop, when she feels them rock up to the third knuckle all at once, pressing bodily in, "it's yours," she chokes out, trying to suck a breath back in as the words curl all low.
Seldom does she know what passes behind her Jarl's eyes. Often she wonders, even now, even after she has been kissed more than once and thoroughly if those eyes linger on her as more than just a requirement of the position. "When I adorn my body, it is you I think of as I brush against myself, when I say our prayers, it is your name first on my lips. You, yours." She means to bite her neck, but when the fingers speed up, her head rolls, turning to nuzzle against Magni with parted lips, immeasurable now, she is only the things that Magni reduces her in this moment. Her voice growing louder and more disjointed in her cries. Her eyes falling shut like somehow it might drag this out longer but has no more effect than leaving her with how her body burns and the feeling of Magni's breath and touch and heat.
Because if there were servants hanging about to know whether this marriage was now consummated, there could be no mistaking her voice. Pitched high, desperate, guttural honest, she didn't know what she was working for, towards, when this fever would break, just that if it didn't she was never going to be able to stand even being brushed against again.