But I've Never Met Anyone Else Like Him (Pash'nar)

[Sariana]

As Pash'nar took both her hands in his, Sariana pursed her lips petulantly and glanced at their feet as they moved.

"Of course not." She said softly, feeling the flush of color on her cheeks. How was she supposed to know anything about where a sailor slept on his boat? Lifting her gaze again, the woman followed his steps, ducking where he ducked and swaying unsteadily. The wind blew again with torturous fingers, chilling skin where water clung and causing the brunette to shiver again. Sariana listened to the wind, she understood some of what it whispered to her most of the time. But currently, it just froze her.

As the sailor opened the almost invisible door to his home, the young brunette was thrown into complete darkness, her hand thankfully grasping the handrail as Pash'nar disappeared from her side.

"Motion sickness? Curious...and rather horrible sounding." She said in the dark, blue eyes wide as they tried to pick up the ethaefal's movements. There were sounds, thumps, clunks and a rather colorful string of curses. Sariana smiled to herself, but held her tongue. Finally, there was a tiny glow, which slowly grew as Pash'nar lit a small glass lantern. Blinking to adjust her eyes to the dim orange light, the woman was caught by the sight. He slowly became illuminated, skin picking up the highlights of the small fire, glass trinkets clinking softly in sea-foam hair and catching the light. Surrounded by the old wood of the boat and various maps, charts and decorations.

Making her way down the stairs, the drykas looked around the room as he lit another lantern, noticing the furniture attached to the walls. She moved to one of the windows, intrigued by the sight of the ocean through the glass, looking up at the moon as it hovered above them. Turning around, Sariana gasped as the lamplight reached the ceiling. Walking out to the middle of the room, she lifted her hand to brush it against the amazingly intricate artwork, sapphire eyes drinking in the details. It was vaguely familiar, something to do with sailing and the stars...but if you asked her to read anything from it, you would be sorely disappointed. Lowering her eyes and her hand, she took in the rest of the living area. A kitchen and shelves, all strangely small for such a statuesque creature, and a dark hallway. Off at the very far end, a curtain hid something more private. His sleeping area...maybe? All in all, it was a surprisingly good set up. A pavilion of sorts, on the water. She smiled at the idea, noticing the rocking of the ship eased somewhat being lower in the vessel.

Facing the ethaefal, she shook her head and rubbed her arms, trying her best not to shudder again.

"That's okay, its much warmer down here an-" He had already disappeared behind the curtain to find her something dry. Pressing her lips together, Sariana walked through the room whilst she waited, picking up one of the charts and examining it. The symbols and lines made no sense to her, and with care she put it back down. Drawn by one of the curious nautical decorations on the shelf, she moved to it. Picking up the item, the woman turned it this way and that. It looked like a box of some kind, carved with incredible patience and detail. She turned it again, making a sound of disgust as the top fell off and onto the floor. It rolled against the side of the room. Putting the main part of the box back on the shelf, she bent down to pick up the lid.

"So, that's it… Now you've seen m'boat."

Standing quickly, the drykas knocked her head on the corner of the shelf. Swearing, she put her hand on the back of her head and placed the lid back on the box. Looking up at the ethaefal with a guilty smile, her eyes wandered to the towel so casually wrapped around pale hips, dangerously low and precarious in its positioning. He had changed...into a towel. Nothing more. It wasn't as though this was the first time she had seen a man in a towel, or even this man in a towel. It was just...

It was just that strange feeling that surged through her every time she looked at him.

Moving towards the man, she took the blanket gratefully and wrapped it around her - dress and all. There was a moment of hesitation, as she wondered whether it would be better to strip down before wrapping up, but then she pulled the blanket tight about her shoulders. The ethaefal hadn't invited her to his boat to get naked, he had invited her because the drykas had suggested that he show her his boat.

Still...the thought lingered.

Standing awkwardly beside Pash'nar, Sariana hummed with delight as the blanket trapped her body heat and began to warm her cooled skin, not missing the cheek in his grin. It infected her, and she couldn't help but give him a coy smile.

"Am I your first?" Chuckling, she sighed with content.

"It's so much warmer in here. And cozy. You've collected a lot of...things. Nice things." Looking up, she let her gaze wander over the ceiling again.

"What is the drawing on the ceiling?" The woman asked with curiosity, interested in the intricate designs. They reminded her of tattoos, important symbols carved into wood instead of flesh.

[Pash'nar]

Pash watched Sariana settle into his offered blanket with both disappointment and contentment. She was warm, but she was still clothed. Not that it mattered. Did it matter? What did he want her here for anyway? Was she his first? First what? Visitor? Oh, by the gods, it was better for everyone if he didn't answer that one. The ethaefal could only snort, sea glass eyes twinkling in lantern-lit mischievousness. No. Definitely not, though it was true he kept to himself more often than he cared to admit. Company, of any kind, always seemed to end up too difficult, too complicated, too short. Following her gaze to his hand-drawn ceiling, Pash'nar stepped closer, close enough that as the casinor rolled with the waves, he leaned against the Drykas while he balanced. He heard his pulse in his ears above the creak and groan of worn, old wood and waves. Raising a pale arm upward behind her, resisting the urge to touch her long dark hair out of curiosity, he traced his smooth fingers over some of the stars, all of them familiar, "It's a map …" Free hand strayed to the opalescent flesh at the back of his neck, where a moon and a compass were emblazoned in blue-black ink come the daylight. He swayed a bit in silence, eyes lingering over familiar constellations and lines even as he allowed himself to be distracted by their proximity for more than a handful of heartbeats. Finally, he exhaled slowly, dragging words up from the depths of his chest, "… an' a memory." He tilted his horned head downward to look at the woman while his hand still brushed the ceiling, turning his body to face her as he spoke softly. There was distance in his tone, a vocal expression of so many seasons counted and gone, "S'the night sky from th'day I woke up here. Not here on th'boat, but … here …" Oh, petch it. Why was he still wasting his breath anyway? Too-perfect teeth snagged the gentle curve of his thin bottom lip and Pash'nar allowed his hand to drift lazily downward from his cabin roof, running upturned knuckles over a smooth, well-tanned cheek. He chuckled—chiding himself instead of finding anything humorous. This was blatantly asking for trouble. There would surely come a morning on the Suvan when even the thoughts he was harboring—not to mention the actions he was intending—would most likely invite some serious danger to his person. He couldn't keep his secret forever. Not at sea. But, for now, he could at least enjoy it. "Jus' don't ask how long ago that was," he taunted in a heavy, expectant breath, committing recklessly to his chosen uncharted path. In simple honesty, he found himself desperate to change the subject. Away from himself. Away from time. Away from the stars and the moon. Always, especially the petching moon. The ethaefal leaned in with the rocking of the ship, salty warm lips—they were indeed soft and definitely not made of stone—pressing against those of the swordwoman's without invitation (and without hesitation), pale fingers sliding purposefully from her cheek to tangle themselves in her hair, still heavy with seawater, " 'Least, not yet."

omg a song :

[Sariana]

OOCOMG SONG! YES!

Keeping her eyes on the ceiling of the vessel as Pash'nar reached up with long opalescent fingers to brush the drawings, Sariana felt her heartbeat jump as the ethaefal towered over her, leaning against her with the gentle rocking of the ship. It was hard to concentrate on his words as each breath in she could smell the ocean on his skin, so close his body heat could be felt through the blanket. Wetting her lips, the warrior found her voice hesitant and husky.

"It's..beautiful..." At the strange tone in his voice, the brunette turned her face to look at him, blue eyes searching his features. The beautifully chiseled creature showed a piece of himself, a raw pain that he masked with nonchalance, gruffness and a charming smile. It only served to tugged at her heart, feeling for him with a depth she didn't quite understand.

Ever so slowly, his hand stroked her cheek softly and the man bit his lip in such a way Sariana found herself captured. The ethaefal chuckled, but she couldn't find the humor in it, unable to look away from his surreal cerulean eyes. Shifting again with the rocking of the boat, the drykas felt the strange familiar prickle of sensation through her from head to toes as though whatever it was she sensed was waiting for something. Holding breath just like herself, hands holding the blanket with a loose grip and imagining for just a moment that there wasn't anything but the ship and they were a million miles from shore.

The ocean swelled again, rolling the casinor against the waves, and in that moment the man leaned down to press soft, warm lips to her own. His hand had woven into her thick raven locks, holding her to him as the salty taste of his mouth assaulted her senses. Sariana breathed deeply, closing her eyes to savor the decedent moment for as long as he dared to linger. Her fingers curled into the rough fabric of the blanket as he pulled back to finish his sentence, leaving her breathless and flushed. Opening her eyes, the brunette drykas looked up at him, the sound of the ocean washing over the hull in rhythmic swells the only noise in the silence that suspended them in the moment. She felt the sensation within her rush to a head with intensity, as though she was so close to...something. So close to making the piece of the puzzle fit as it should.

I shouldn't be here...

She should be back with her companions, preparing for their journey, like the good traveling companion she was. Sylkra would be fretting about her, wondering where she had gone. She shouldn't be swooning under the gaze of a godling, captured by his warmth and his lips. It would be best if she just left now, walked back up the stairs and lept into the freezing ocean. But everything in her being protested the notion.

Lifting up on her toes, Sariana pressed her lips to his, returning the kiss with a soft hesitant touch. Gauging his response as she pulled back slightly, the woman kissed him again with slightly parted lips, the tip of her tongue brushing against the soft curve of his oh-so-perfect mouth. Her hands released the blanket, one moving to rest against his torso to keep her balance as the boat rocked in the swells.

There may have been this... :

[Pash'nar]

What the petch was he doing? She should not petching be here. She needed to go. Now. She couldn't stay. Not if the sun rose. Not yet. Pash'nar wrestled with his judgement, knowing he was towing the wrong line. These waters were too dangerous for him to be treading, too enticing. In the sun, on the beach, threatened by some snarling kelvic, he knew what he wanted then. What he had to have. But now? The ethaefal made to speak, inhaling the warmth of their proximity to form into words of objection, of fumbled apology for his hurriedness. Not now. Later. Surely, there were rewards for waiting. Surely, she should know first that he … "Wait—" he breathed again, surfacing briefly, but he couldn't finish his thoughts. Sariana lifted her tanned face to his, returning his reckless, distracted gesture. Her lips, like his, tasted of the sea, and he felt his voice get caught and tangled in the swift undertow of wanting, dragged away into inkier depths. He heard the soft crumple of his blanket slipping from her grip and inhaled sharply at the heat she spread across his bare, opalescent flesh with her touch. Petch waiting. At the brush of her tongue, the unlikely sailor surged forward, trailing one pale hand along his painted cabin roof while the other slid from her hair and dragged slowly over still-wet fabric to the comfortable curve of her lower back. Deepening their kiss with the rough capture of her lower lip in his teeth, his few forward steps pressed the Drykas against his meager, but immovable, table. Pale fingers traced lower, over where he knew inked skin was hidden, finally teasing at the hemline of her dress. Pash'nar made no immediate move to remove soaked clothing, however, not yet, leaning into her warm hand on his chest as he swayed with the roll of the sea. When it came to these situations, the navigator struggled to remember gentleness. Despite his ethereal, delicate appearance, he was more often than not barely contained, untamed. He was much more a storm at sea than a slow receding of the tide. Not to say he was incapable of being tempered, tamed, or channeled ... just that more often than not, he was used to doing as he pleased. Petch consequences. With a brush of horns and sea foam hair, he pulled away from her lips, arching to kiss the inviting smoothness of her neck, wordlessly insisting the swordswoman linger here with him for a while longer, though he knew he'd have to find some way to slip out before the dawn.

[Sariana]

The brunette hadn't missed his quiet word before, his almost protest against their embrace. But she didn't want to hear it, because she wasn't sure she could. Something deeper beckoned her, more than the intense physical pleasure that burned across her flesh where his skin touched. Reluctantly, Sariana drew back again, knowing that she should really go, feeling the weight of her responsibilities closing in.

"I should.." Her words were cut short as with a sudden surge the taller ethaefal moved towards her, pressing her back against the small table bolted firmly to the body of the boat, his hand pressing to the small of her back and his mouth welcoming her with a passionate heat. She felt his teeth on her lower lip, causing her head to spin with a rush of warmth across her cheeks and tingling through her whole body. His intensity and sudden roughness delighted the warrior, giving her a sensation not unlike the one she experienced in the heat of battle. She felt her worries and objections disappear like so much dust in the wind.

Again, the boat rolled, pressing their bodies closer together in the gentle rocking rhythm of the ocean. Sariana sensed Pash'nar pull back, his sudden thrilling and heart-racing passion returning to the slow lingering it had started as. Breathing through still parted lips, the blue eyed warrior ran her hand across the planes of his torso to slip over his shoulder and rest against the back of his neck as smooth horns brushed her cheek. Soft lips pressed to the sensitive skin on her neck, urging her to tilt her head back, breathing increased with a soft sigh of delight. Her other hand moved to stroke across the sailors ribs, fingertips feeling each dip and rise of his chest as he breathed, sliding around to feel the hardened muscles across his back and shoulder blade.

The drykas felt he was holding back, restraining himself for her sake. Frustration and enjoyment battled across her features, she wanted him to stop hiding behind this facade. There was more to the moonstruck creature then even he wanted to admit, yet everything he did was to keep it restrained - hidden. Every conversation they had, pulled back just before he said...something. His gaze screamed of a depth somewhere, something that lay just beyond words. And even now, his actions gave the woman a feeling that Pash'nar was holding back.

With a groan, Sariana moved her hand from his back, slipping it to his hand where it rested against the soft fabric of his towel. Her nails pressed against pale flesh, stroking along his hips from one side to the other and back again. Her other hand stroked the back of his neck and shoulders, whist the soft roll of the ship pressed their bodies together one more. It was intoxicating.

[Pash'nar]

The light, persistent touch of her hands exploring his opalescent skin was tantalizing and torturous, nails dragging downward, tracing greedily over muscle and bone just above the threadbare towel he was quickly losing any reason to cling to. Sariana's voice clung with her breath in his ear and his heartbeat was a storm-tossed wave against rocks in his chest. The ethaefal felt her head lean back and he let his teeth play against her neck, teasing his way upward to her ear, his own breathing ragged with excitement. The old casinor rocked, worn hull creaking above their racing pulses, and in the unbearably warm proximity of their bodies, Pash'nar released his tenuous hold on both his resolve and his towel. His hands slid away for only a chime or two with the soft crumple of fabric and a sharp, excited inhale, and he lifted his head, tempestuous grin creased into his celestially aquiline features. Bending a little, pale fingers pressed against tanned thighs, snaking firmly upwards, slipping under the still-wet dress that clung to the Drykas' body. He paused at her waist, tide pool eyes traveling downward to linger briefly over all he'd uncovered before returning to meet her sapphire gaze. No, nothing was particularly new given the nature of their first meeting, and yet because their current situation was, well, rather intentionally different on all accounts, everything was suddenly much more appreciated. He held her stare for a long string of uneven breaths but said nothing, wondering briefly if she were to see him again in the daylight clothed in mortal flesh if she would bother to even notice that his eyes never changed. Look, he wanted to whisper fervently, don't forget b'cause I ain't gonna tell you. Instead, he looked away without a word. After a few more heartbeats of silence, a hoarse, coy laugh escaped his thin lips and the tall shard of moonlight gently squeezed the muscled curves he held underneath his palms, suddenly picking her up without warning. Um, Insert Mature Words Here So You've Been Warned! : He deposited her with obvious eagerness on his modest tabletop, scattering papers and sending half-finished charts fluttering to the floor with now-thoughtless (or single-minded) abandon. He returned to dragging his hands higher over her chilled, tan skin, determined to remove her simple dress, smelling strongly of soap and seawater, and toss it somewhere unimportant. The navigator paused again on his slow journey, smooth hands cupping her ample breasts with a growl of delight catching in his throat. Thumbs teased and pinched before the ethaefal reluctantly finished the sweep of his upward motion, yanking Sariana's dress over her head and carelessly depositing it over his shoulder with an almost comical slap, expression waxing more wicked than contained. The faint flames of lamplight flickered off his smooth, milky horns as he quickly leaned forward once again for a slow, heated kiss, more teeth and tongue than gentle lips. The new height he'd placed the swordswoman at allowed him an almost excruciating vantage point, obvious excitement pressing against a more yielding softness just to taunt her with his intentions. One arm snaked beside the Drykas to curl taut fingers over the edge of said table as he let his other hand return to wandering her exposed skin purposefully.

[Sariana]

Sariana couldn't help it as her breath caught in her throat, hearing the soft whisper of the towel so precariously clinging to the statuesque creature as it slipped to the floor and pooled around his feet. Her eyes opened as his lips left her skin, sky blue eyes meeting his own rich tide-pool gaze. He grinned, a wicked and wanton thing that caused her heart to stutter. Slowly, with firm purpose, his pale fingers pressed to the soft skin of her thighs, moving up her body and lifting the transparent fabric as they went. The drykas watched as Pash'nar's line of vision shifted, tracing its way to the places his hands had uncovered. Sariana's shallow breaths came through slightly parted lips, feeling more naked now then she had in the pools. He had seen her there, in all her miza-born glory, but it had been different then. He had been an ass, and they were simply to people sharing a public place of respite. Then, there had been no lingering looks or molten kisses.

The ethaefal raised his eyes to hers, locked her to him with only the ocean to compliment their silence. The seconds ticked by like hours, and Sariana felt herself wanting to find him. Windows to the soul, his eyes said so much, and hid so very much more. Gods, there was that feeling again, the overwhelming sense of deja vu. She could feel his heart beating as her hand moved to rest on his chest, a reminder that no matter how beautiful he was, this fallen piece of Leth was still a man.

She released the breath she was holding as he looked away finally, lifting her hand to rest it gently on his cheek. The brunette wanted to learn more, so much more. Why wouldn't he meet her in the day? Why had he insisted on the night? What did he hold inside that he battled so hard.

Suddenly, the woman found herself being lifted, placed on the tabletop behind her with a hurried flutter of charts and maps as they were pushed to the floor. With a small sound of surprise, she smiled into the cerulean gaze that looked at her, welcoming his attentions.

Mature Content ahead! :

There was an eagerness in the moonstruck creature as he continued to run his hands up her chilled skin, raising goosebumps as he went and pulling her dress higher and higher. From her current position, Sariana was able to let her gaze sweep down the vision in front of her then back again with a delicious shudder of anticipation and desire. As warm hands cupped the swell of her breasts, brushing across sensitive tips with rough thumbs, the warrior made a small sound in her throat, a soft moan. Her hands couldn't find a place to settle, wandering over the firm planes of his torso and the taught muscle of his biceps. With a heavy exhale, she lifted her arms as he deftly removed the dress over her head, throwing it aside like so much flotsam. Before she could blink he was on her mouth again, kissing her with fervent passion.

Sariana relished in his unrestrained assault, welcoming his tongue and the teeth on her lower lip. She groaned, bringing her arms around his shoulders and pulling Pash'nar against her, her fingers intertwined in his sea-foam hair, breasts brushing the exposed pale skin of his chest. Between them, she could feel the eager press of excitement, the promise of things to come. Another sound escaped her lips, encouraging the ethaefal in his actions.

Softly, the lanterns glowed, giving the godling a supernatural light and allowing the woman to concentrate on the being before her. With a sharp intake of breath, Sariana shuddered as his hand explored her curves with abandon. There was no shy pauses, no uncertain stops. The sailor knew what he wanted, and Gods be damned, what she wanted to. Returning the favor, the warrior tugged on a lush lower lip gently with her teeth as one hand snaked lower down. It trailed the path down his sternum and across his navel, one finger raking softly along the invisible line that led to the expanse that rested within dangerous distance between her parted legs. Breathing ragged with carnal desire, the young drykas brushed against him as the boat rocked in the ocean, pressing them closer together and allowing her hand a firmer stroke against the firm pressure that taunted them both.

[Pash'nar]

The ethaefal shuddered at her touch, a rumble of excitement escaping against their tangled lips from the warm depths of his chest. He closed his eyes and reminded himself to breathe, unable to regret the lie he was deepening with such pleasure. Patience was not his virtue, despite the decades he could have spent practicing restraint and calmness. No, this was the sort of moment where he seemed to find more of himself, to feel defined, real—the dangerous one. Was the swordswoman really dangerous, though? Surely, she wouldn't take kindly to his purposeful deception, though for the moment she took kindly enough to his intimate attentions. If this was his only opportunity to enjoy all she had to offer, then he'd take it, though he was quite aware the slower path may have offered similar rewards had he been willing to be patient. It was too late for that now. Pash'nar wrestled briefly with his thoughts, leaning into the slow strokes of Sariana's hand with another throaty noise of approval. If the Drykas could fight as well as she could handle a man, then the unlikely sailor would meet a quick end on their way to Alvadas for sure. Yo. Mature stuff here. : Tugging toothily away from her lovely mouth, he let his lips burn a trail over her chin and neck, sliding away from her hands with obvious reluctance as he roamed his across well-tanned skin. A tide washing back out to sea, he sank downward, hands on her knees for balance. The ethaefal took a few moments to linger at her breasts enticingly before continuing his journey downward along the inside of one well-muscled thigh and tilting his head to begin his return journey up the next, sea foam hair and gently curved horns tickling skin that hid strength from a lifetime in the Sea of Grass. Slowly, he paused in his ascension to explore even softer parts, tongue brushing over warm, hidden places that didn't taste of salt water. With a calculated sort of fervor, he carefully sought as much reaction as he could muster out of the Drykas—movement, noise, sensation—navigating her with tantalizing slowness toward the horizon with gentle, persistent attentions. Then, with a laugh, he drew away, leaving her purposefully hanging and wanting, blazing his path back upward along her skin, still chuckling. The unlikely sailor stood slowly, teeth at her neck and hot, broken breaths in her ear. The ethaefal rolled his hips with the next rock of the ship to close the excited, impossible distance between them, pressing firmly as he sought a winded invitation to sail deeper waters.

[Sariana]

The slow rocking of the boat combined with the taunting nips and nibbles on full lips left the brunette breathing heavily, hands moving with more intensive purpose as the ethaefal made a noise deep inside his chest. It rattled her senses and left the young woman with a tingling sensation running through her veins. Groaning softly in response, Sariana took the sound as encouragement and increased her exploration of the warmth resting so casually between them.

As Pash'nar pulled away from her, the warrior made a small sound of disappointment, before she felt the hot touch of his breath on her cheek as he moved lower. Her jaw, her neck. Something beyond her control pulled her towards the towering ethaefal, entranced by the very glow of his moon touched skin. There was a need, a strong and uncontrollable desire to be close to the man, and everything in her being welcomed his touch.

Adult content ahead... :

Glancing down at the ethaefal as he moved lower down her body, the young warrior pulled her lower lip between her teeth and bit down gently, her breath catching as his mouth found the sensitive peaks of her soft mounds. Allowing another soft moan to escape her lips, Sariana felt every nerve in her body tense as the pale godlling moved even lower still, his smooth horns brushing the curve of her thighs as he pressed his mouth against them. Her hands moved slowly across the sailors arms as he went, resting behind her on the table to allow the tantalizing creature more movement.

As Pash'nar explored her body with his warm soft mouth, Sariana writhed under his ministrations, perched on her elbows and back arched with ecstatic delight. Each movement, each fervent sweep of his tongue left the young drykas trembling with a building wave of sensation. She groaned, his name wrapped around the low noise and ending with a breathy gasp. Fingernails pressed deeply into soft palms as she felt the crest in her rising, and with a laugh, quite suddenly the decadent creature drew away from her. As goosebumps raised on tanned flesh where his hot breath teased, Sariana opened her eyes to pin the sailor with a lusty stare, pupils dilated and lips parted. The ship rocked, pressing his obvious desire against her in places that still ached from their recent attentions.

Lifting from her elbows, the sapphire eyed warrior wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing the man closer to devour his mouth with her own. Pressing her thighs to his hips, the woman raised her knees to wrap long muscular legs around his waist and allowed the momentum of the ocean to push them together with a satisfied moan, welcoming the questioning pressure of his excitement within her depths. Holding the pale skinned ethaefal against her body for a moment, the drykas allowed herself the guilty pleasure of their first connection, pressing her face into his neck with a soft sigh. If it was too soon, she wouldn't apologize for it, deep sensations of pleasure running through her body and leaving her breathless.

[Pash'nar]

Ah. Time dissolved into a singular moment, wrapped in lusty wordlessness. A sudden breath escaped through too-perfect teeth as the Drykas willingly brought the two of them together, her heated noises muffled against the opalescent skin of his neck. Pale hands dragged roughly over tanned skin, seeking the worn edges of old wood, fingers curling over the familiar surface tightly. His capacity for guilt or distraction drained away, body tingling with a singular focus burning its way up his spine from between a pair of well-muscled thighs. The navigator lowered his ornamented head, cerulean eyes briefly snagged by lamplit reflections on rounded glass portholes, the inky blackness of the sea and sky outside forming a warped but perfect mirror of bare skin and obvious pleasure. Um. Yes. Mature stuff here. : Pash'nar let the swordswoman hold him still for a few caged heartbeats, their pulses racing in chorus. With an eager curiosity, his hips began to move, probing uncharted depths and seeking that perfectly drawn current that brought pleasure to them both. He let the waves define his pace however, tantalizingly slow to the music of his own faintly creaking, antique hull. He listened and felt, struggling to keep from getting too lost at sea too soon, guiding her along his well-charted course with careful motions. Aware of how he'd already teased her toward her own high tide, the tall shard of moonlight bit his lip and sought to bring her washing onto the shore of her own excitement, relishing in the enjoyment he was capable of navigating another person through with the motions of his own body. The wind caught in their sails soon enough, and ragged, broken breaths escaped thin, perfect lips once the ethaefal began to pick up his pace. He felt the restless heat in his spine, building like some dark, inky swell of a wave. Gentle motions intensified and rolling hips gave way to more forceful thrusts, eager and anticipating. He let a hand slip away from it's tight-knuckled grip on his table, snaking pale fingers under Sariana's backside to pull her closer still, soon caught in the undertow he could no longer swim calmly against. More throaty noises of peaking desire tumbled off of parted lips, and the navigator struggled with gentleness, feeling the swelling of his own tide wash over him. He leaned against the Drykas suddenly, rough and untamed, succumbing to the heat that surrounded him and the tempestuous wave of pleasure that washed over him. Pash'nar came like a summer storm—harsh and loud. Even as well-carved shoulders relaxed and a slow exhale brushed the swordswoman's neck, hips continued to move involuntarily in the wake of their moment, finally slowing with a hoarse and unexpected chuckle breaking contented, heated quiet. He considered carrying Sariana off to his bed, but remained silent for a few moments, swaying with the slow toss of the waves.