shelley_winters | The Violet Hour

The Violet Hour

Shelley tugs the neck of the shirt up again, irritated. His clothes are all far too big, the shirt she is wearing as a pyjama top almost as long as a tunic, falling down to her thighs. A pair of his socks - an attempt to keep her freezing feet warmer - flop pathetically against the floor as she walks out of the bathroom, hair soft and clinging with static to her cheeks from overbrushing.

She had stayed there as long as possible, but you can't ever hide forever. As she closes the door behind her, she grits her teeth, determined. There are couches in the other room, and that's where she's headed.

The girl doesn't look at Ishamael as she makes silently for the other door.

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"So, yes," Shelley translates, a little grumpily. She had been sure it was right.

The girl shifts a little, movement of the cloth on her back tickling, if not exactly unpleasant. Not unpleasant, but still worrying. And he shouldn't be doing that anyway, it's not...

Gently, he raised up on his arm and softly kissed her cheek, his face hanging over hers. His eyes were hidden by his long black hair as he whispered to her.

"I am glad that you are safe."

Shelley twitches, blushing slightly, and irritated that she reacted - if she doesn't react, he'll stop, she has to hold onto that - and snaps quietly,

"Stop it."

A light laugh from Ishamael as he responded quietly with a simple question. Get her talking, make her forget what is happening. A frog placed in boiling water would jump out, but raise the temperature by increments and... His thumb stroking her stomach more firmly, a definite caress in his touch.

"Did you like the snow, my lady?"

His thumb presses harder, and she exhales a little too fast, trying to pull back from his hand, and only moving closer to him, shaking her head distractedly.

"W-what's that got to do with anything?"

"Was it enjoyable?"

His arm remained in place, but the shifting had left her nearly under him. His dark hair shrouded his face in the eerie violet twilight. Only the gentle, small smile remained visible, before the slight turn in his head caused even that glinting smile to fade into the darkness.

Shelley doesn't move, but her expression alters, just a little warier.

"...It was all right."

It was beautiful, it was peaceful. She supposes that counts as enjoyable, grudging though she is to admit it.

Pausing for a moment, and slightly begrudgingly, Ishamael admitted candidly, brushing the dark hair from his face, before returning the hand to her stomach. The slow stroking of her stomach continued as if it had never stopped, nothing quick or too pressing. The skin not hidden by the blankets was quite cold. The air held a definite chill, which made contact with her all the more pleasant, necessary even.

"You struck me quite well at one point. I was attempting to remove the snow from my robe for quite some time."

Shelley grits her teeth, and tries to ignore his hand, staring up resolutely past his face to the ceiling, near invisible in the darkness.

"Well, I hate you. So good."

With a small smile, Ishamael leaned down and kissed her. His dark shape shifting in the low, violet light. A fierce wind stirred the snow outside, and cried in a soft voice like that of a child.

Shelley squeaks faintly before his mouth touches hers, and then it's just confusion. Even as her hands go to his shoulders to try to push him back, part of her distractedly wonders why he does this when she tells him she hates him, and she can't-

And then there's room to talk again, and breathe, if just barely.

"D- don't. Don't do that."

More than his thumb began to caress her stomach as he smiled faintly at her. The silk of her robe catching and bunching from the slow spirals and soft touches of his hand.

"Why? You are so very beautiful, and you seem to enjoy it too..."

His voice trailed off as he once more pressed his lips to hers.

And she wants to shout back at him, because I said don't!

But there's nowhere to move in the soft suffocating sheets with his arm around her, and the other hand pressed against her stomach, and God, but it's hard to think and not to tilt her head back to kiss him more easily, she mustn't. No!

She wrenches her head to one side, with a shaky breath. No.

In the shadows hidden by his long hair, Ishamael licked his lips and spoke softly to her, in an almost hypnotic low purr.

"Nothing wrong... Nothing wrong at all. We have had a hard day and it is cold outside. Nothing shameful, not at all."

His hand wandered with soft caresses along her body--
A soft pressing of the thumb on her side--
A thumb sliding along the band of her knickers--
The gentle touches of his fingers on the bottom of her left breast--

Her eyes shut hard, dark flush staining her cheeks as she tries not to gasp. Very well for him to say, but it is if she can't control how she reacts when she doesn't want to- want-

Well, anything.

"Stop... it..."

The caresses slow to one finger slowly tracing a circle--over and over--in the center of her stomach. Oh, his face was so kind in that violet light, the bright victorious gleam in those blue eyes hidden by his black hair falling forward from his face.

"Why do you want me to stop?"

She doesn't open her eyes, silently and frantically trying to think. It's wrong. She mustn't, she hates him-

"...I hate you."

So she can't. Won't.

The pressure of his hand increased, venturing up her body as he leaned in closer to her face, his voice barely audible, thick and low.

"There is nothing wrong with it. No shame in a kiss, in a touch. Nothing to fear or be ashamed of."

Leaning forward only slightly, he kissed her once more.

...Oh. Oh, god. She can't stop it. She could never stop him if he really wanted - and she shakes at the thought of what he wants, it's too strange, too frightening - and now she isn't sure what to do. Struggling does no good, but she can't just let him kiss her because then...

Then what?

She has no idea. And that's what's terrifying.

In the violet light, his face hung just over hers as he stroked her body lovingly. Again, he spoke in that low voice. Little Lady Shelley was certainly enjoying herself, the way her back arched ever so slightly at his touch, and... well, it was certainly not the cold her breasts were responding to with the rest of her flesh flushed and warm...

Fuck, it was enjoyable to kiss her and touch her, and just a little bit more and...

"Do you not enjoy it? There is no shame in that or in the kisses. Nothing wrong with what we are doing or how we feel. Just..."

His face hung over hers, his lips barely above her own as he more firmly pressed his thumb up her body.

Her eyes squeeze tighter shut, not wanting to see how close...

"No."

(I deny you)

She grits her teeth, lips pressing together hard, and shakes her head desperately. Just... ignore it, deny it, and she can worry about how much she wants not to later. Later, when she can think.

His fingertips tarried on the thin silk covering her breasts, a soft pressing that meandered its way down her body. A slightly curious look as he spoke in a voice barely audible over the wind's whining, child-like cry.

"You cannot think of a reason, can you? Why don't you just try a little taste? If it is not to your liking then say so, and I will stop. Just try..."

She shudders, flushing hotly at what he's saying, head falling back against the pillows, and eyes flickering open for a moment. No, she knows there's a reason, she hates and he's bad and she mustn't...

The girl shivers again as his fingers move ever so slightly downwards. And does she believe him? Can she stop him if he's lying? No, but...

She can say no. She will. She stares up at him, determined and trembling.

"...I'll say. I'll-"

A small smile in reply, the triumphant gleam in his eyes hidden by the shadows in the violet light. His low voice purred as he finished her sentence for her.

"...Have a taste."

Ever so gently, he pressed his mouth to hers for a kiss. Not so gently, however, was the insistent pressure of his thumb as he traced it up body. Starting below the hem of her knickers, and tracing upwards her body instinctively arched into the touch. How very convenient for her to press her chest into the ministrations of his hand. The joy of running his thumb over her nipple--stiff from his earlier touches--was far beyond what he had imagined. How could it be otherwise for the pleasure was in the release of these tensions?

And how glorious the release when these months of tension would shatter like a bubble into the fires of their desire. For the mind was ever the body's puppet and to harness one was to harness the other--The dissolution of their two into one in the fires of passion while the cold wind howled all around.

The smallest noise at the back of her throat escapes before she can stop herself, hands curling around his shoulders and fingertips digging in slightly.

...Ohgod.

He stops kissing her for a moment, and she breathes shallowly, panicky and unable to summon words.

The Violet Hour

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