abnormalizes | Seasons: IC Contact/Continuations

[They're something that is uniquely his. Kissing him is like kissing no other person, and for that she prizes it even more than she normally would.

A hand gropes at her chest - it takes a moment for her to realize it's not his. Still, she acquiesces, pulling back from the kiss in order to unbutton her suit jacket and toss it carelessly to the side. Then her blouse follows the same way, leaving her in her bra and skirt.

Dropping the protection of her EGO suit on the floor, because she doesn't need it.]

[Even better for her - the more she kisses him, the more of his magic she'll take in, and the stronger the effects become.
If this were the land of the dead, she'd already be blessed with enough Orange magic to end up with second sight, seeing all the spirits invisible to everyone else.

It takes him a second, though, to understand what she's just done -
He ends up pulling out of the kiss, chest heaving as he looks down between them... and it clicks. She's taken off her EGO suit.
He had convinced himself she wore it here to protect herself from him, and yet... she's happily stripped it off, trusting him implicitly.
(Or so he thinks.)

Give him a second. He has to try very hard not to tear up over this whole idea.
Something he's sure will help - he frees his hand from her hair to reach out and take one of her breasts, massaging it gently in his palm as he goes back in for another kiss.]

[Oblivious to his turmoil, she moans into his mouth, pushing her chest into his hand eagerly. Not even the slightest hesitation, here.

She runs her fingers through his hair, once again scritching the base of his horns like he'd liked so much as she kisses him as deeply as she can.]

[The turmoil, thankfully, is ambient - he can feel it brew in the back of his mind, but he's able to push it down so he can try and focus on her and her alone, instead.
Rubbing her chest with his palm as he finally grinds his hips down against hers, letting out a heady sounding hum against her lips.

...

All of which is immediately put on pause when she starts scratching at his horn like that.
Even his hand stills completely, just a nice, firm, unmoving hold on her breast.
Sorry, Eva. That's his Shut Up And Stop Thinking button.]

[Oh, oops. She was just happily grinding back against him when he froze. She stops scritching his horn and pulls back, looking sheepish.]

Feels nice, hard to do anything during?

[She stops the scritching and he seems to recover, blinking at her a bit before looking down between them as his face starts to tint a nice, deep orange in embarrassment.]

M-mm... I, ah -
I have never... had someone touch my horns like that. Before.
I suppose they're quite sensitive...

Maybe for after-sex cuddling then.

Would you mind lifting your hips for me? I like your fashion, but I really want to get you naked.

Yes - yes! I can do that, yes, give me just a moment...

[He has to shift a bit on his knees, making sure he's stable before he lifts himself up onto them from off of her lap.
Holding onto her shoulders delicately, of course.]

... I feel as though I should have dressed more... attractively for this, rather than simple loungewear -
But at least that should make your job much easier, here.

[Seriously. Alongside that airy shirt, he's just in... pants. Nothing fancy at all.
They're wide-legged, even, for comfort's sake. Scandalous??]

You're still super hot, don't worry!

[Quick to reassure him as she tugs his legs down and off of him. She gives him a few good strokes, smiling.]

You're probably too queasy for a lot of motion right now, so how about I ride you?

[Referencing his current state without so much as a change of expression.]

[Well, he WANTED to just enjoy the way she was stripping him and stroking him, but. Y'know.
He can't help pulling back further to look at her when she references that so casually, blinking in surprise... before trying to let himself be as casual as she is, moving to take off his shirt as he talks.]

... You truly have no boundaries, do you?

Yes, I suppose my nausea over having eaten you would make it a bit hard to fuck you properly... riding me would be the best choice.
And I just enjoy not having to do any work, of course.

Here - shall I lay back for you? Or... were you thinking of something else?

Oh - I probably shouldn't have mentioned that, sorry...

[With most people that would be a severe moodkiller.]

Lay back for me, please? I'll make it up to you.

I have no problem with it. You are the one whose chest was torn into like an animal.

[Said, of course, as he moves to lay back for her, letting his trousers bunch up around his calves while everything else is on display.]

... I'm merely surprised that you seem to have no issues discussing it during.
The average person would consider it fucked up, you know.

It is what it is, and what it is is an important point of consideration when it comes to sex position.

[She pulls off her skirt and underwear and tosses them aside, then straddles him and lowers herself carefully down. She takes a moment just to breathe, to get used to the feeling of him inside her-

-and then immediately starts bouncing on him with enthusiasm, riding him hard and fast.]

Ah, god --

[Yeah, that enthusiasm is noticeable, and he's more-or-less forced to grab onto her thighs just from how much it is; he feels as though he's going to topple right off the sofa from it... or maybe die outright, considering he's still new to this whole "fucking" thing -
He needs to mentally catch up with it all, legs spreading and his heel pushing into the arm of his couch like that will somehow slow things down and make it easier to catch up.]

You - you truly waste no time, hm...!

I aim to please.

[And also to have a fun time herself, that's also important.

She keeps that same rhythm, a small mercy to make it easier for him to get adjusted to her movements. Grinning down at him, she squeezes her own chest, letting out a shameless moan of,] Louis...

[It may be a small mercy, but it's a mercy nonetheless - it does make it easier to just ease into the speed she's moving at, grinding against her everytime she brings her hips down against his.
It's a lot, but it's a good kind of "a lot", he's decided. Like a bath that's just a little bit too hot, but in a way that's pleasant.

...

And then she has to go and do that, which -
Well, keeping up with the bath analogy, it's a lot like she's taken a bowl of cold water and dumped it over his head right as he'd gotten used to the heat.
His fingers grip at her thighs, nails digging into them, as his expression goes uncertain and wobbly... but he doesn't do anything to stop, either, his own movements against her picking up despite the aches of it all and the nausea still settled in his stomach.

Should he be working so hard? Absolutely not.
But what else is he supposed to do in the face of her moaning his name like that?]

-Not the kind of expression I'm hoping to see when moaning your name, not gonna lie.

[She slows down a little, putting her hand over his on her thigh.]

You okay?

[Now that she's slowing down for him, it's clear he's already panting and worn out... but he neither nods nor shakes his head in response, instead just shutting his eyes and leaning his head back against the sofa for a moment.
Just a moment, as he thinks of how to explain his thoughts.]

... I...
Don't know.

[His grip on her thighs goes firm, now, to try and still her completely. ... With himself still inside her, of course.
But it's a gentle "okay, stop, let's talk".]

- Something about hearing it after everything I have done feels... strange.
This is not something I've ever felt before - like something in my chest has been wrapped in thorns and vines, tugging tight just hearing you moan like that...

[Evangeline stops the moment he gently urges her to. She gives the back of his hand a squeeze.]

Would it help if I told you again that I forgive you?

[He goes quiet, hearing that. Clearly needing to think about it, letting out a sigh as he turns it over in his mind.]

... Not as much as I wish it would.

Please, don't get me wrong - I want this so badly... I would love nothing more than to let you ride me like it's going out of fashion.
If I had the choice, I'd allow you to fuck me until I fall unconscious. And I feel no shame admitting this.

But somehow, at the same time, it makes me feel as though we're stirring the contents of my chest cavity with a spiked mace.

...Okay. It sounds like we should stop, then?

[She's worked up, but her arousal is not nearly as important as his comfort. She doesn't want to hurt him even the tiniest bit.]

Oh, no, no--
I am certain that if we stop, I'll burst into flames and perish right here on the spot.

We Grim Reapers are resilient, able to handle everything from mortal wounds, to starvation, to hyperthermia, all without batting an eye - but we aren't immune to being blueballed.
Unfortunately.

[Notably, he's not letting go of her thighs at all. No getting up yet, they're not done??]

... I just -
Feel we must address the elephant in the room. In that, as always, whatever is happening in my head is a confusing, garbled mess that not even I follow along with most days, and it's chosen this as something to be quite a bit more confusing and garbled about.
I think I am feeling...

[He trails off, looking to the side as he clearly tries his best to untangle the multicolored, hallucinogenic mess that is his own thought patterns -
And then, with a tone in his voice as if this is the most alien word he has ever heard and could choose to say:]

... Remorse...?

[...This is clearly a difficult thing for him to grapple with, so she will not say the first thing that came to her mind, which was 'duh'.]

That would make sense. That's a pretty reasonable thing to wish to not have done.

Well... yes - you are right about that.
A normal person... they would look back at such actions and feel remorse, wouldn't they?

[His hold on her thighs lightens up a bit, and he starts to rub one of his thumbs in a little circle against her skin.]

... That I feel it at all is a testament to you and your ability to worm your way inside of people, you know.
I can't remember a time where I have felt it this strongly - and for reasons beyond disliking the consequences.

Of which there have been none, mind you; somehow, I am walking away from my crimes completely scot-free, and instead of being happy about such a thing... it feels wrong.

[She feels confident he’s never killed and eaten a friend before, and it’s less that she herself is special.]

…I think dealing with guilt is kind of a consequence. Maybe even a more effective one than the violence other people would inflict on you.

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eva taking off her shirt after groping herself like https://i.imgur.com/L5qBYDL.png

like you don't hallucinate someone copping a feel all the time (no that's just you eva)

i mean. lbr he probably has. he's had ten years to hallucinate all kindsa things

she's speedrunning it

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