fondofapples | Inbox -- Genessia

Regina Mills
~~Queen~~ ~~Mayor~~ Mother
Sorceress
Fond of Plants

"You've reached the inbox of Regina Mills. Leave a message. If it's urgent, it's probably too late."

(text, voice, video, action, ooc planning if necessary for Genessia only)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

hellorhighwater

Neil stroked her through her orgasm, fingers still inside her as he sank into her embrace with a deep, ragged sigh. The feel of her pleasure, those sweet words, the taste of her moans and sobs still fresh on his tongue--it rippled through him like a breeze gone soul-deep, stirring to life things he hadn't let himself feel for most of his life. Not like this, not wild and boundless and without restraint, without caution.

Contentment. Serenity. Hope.

"Jon dagho--I love you." he replied hoarsely, tipping his head against hers and letting himself get lost in it: her cunt still fluttering around his fingers, his own desire sweet agony burning under the skin, a white-hot lance flaying open his chest as his heart tumbled out and into her waiting arms. "I love you so much..."

From:

fondofapples

Jon dahgo. I love you. The words that he rasped, his voice raw with desire and exertion, spilled sweet and silken over her, molten slip gold, kintsugi-like highlighting and mending her cracks. She'd heard the words so infrequently in her life, let alone during sex, that she shuddered with the emotional force of them, and knew she would never forget how he sounded saying them just now.

She kissed his neck, a simple, sweet thank-you for how he loved her, how much and how fiercely. Then she worked her hand between them to palm the rigid line of his shaft. Although she wanted him, and wanted his pleasure even more, it was a caress for its own sake, an appreciation of the scalding heat, of satiny skin over a firm erection, of him as a man. Her man.

That thought, her man sent a different sort of heat cascading through her system, and with it an almost violent, dark passion to keep him that twinned with her softer, more reverent affections.

From:

hellorhighwater

The feel of her palming his erection through his pants stole the breath from his lungs, had his hips jerking reflexively into the slide of her hand not nearly close enough to stop the sharp ache of need that tore a moan from low in his chest.

And it was so much more now, because it wasn't a tease, wasn't an invitation--it was an open claim, a caress because she could, because he was hers and she was his, and she wasn't afraid of it anymore.

Lifting his head, he withdrew his fingers from her cunt, and without hesitation sucked the taste of her off of them, eyes shutting with pleasure and another low hum of satisfaction rising out of him. Fresh heat bloomed low in his body, igniting violent passion of his own because this was his now. Everything in this moment was--those tender brushes of her lips against his neck, the feel of her fingers, the taste of her slick. There was no chance, now or ever again, that another man would hear her moan and sob with pleasure, look on her beautiful body, get to wake up next to her, hair tousled with sleep and bare features radiant as the sun.

He didn't have to feel possessive of any of this anymore, because it was all his, she was all his--and yet he was. Ferociously, violently, desperately possessive and just as desperate to have all of it, tonight, this very fucking second.

From:

fondofapples

That tearing moan told her everything she needed to know about his desire for her, and yet, watching him suck the taste of her from his fingers... it spoke even more. Of love, of intimate possession, of devotion...

"That's criminally hot," she murmured and dove headlong into another kiss, deep and slow, and thorough while she licked her own taste from his tongue and the inside of his mouth. She'd always liked that, her slick on a lover's mouth or cock or fingers, but this felt different, like a promise exchanged between them that no one else would ever taste her, or him, and if it was too soon for never and always and forever, she felt them anyway, knew them anyway, because of who they were and how they loved.

Although she knew the danger of wanting no one else, no one else ever, Regina did. She wanted it and chased more proof of it, more connection to seal the promise. So while they traded control of an electrifying kiss, she popped the button on his jeans, tugged down the zipper, and got her hand inside his jeans to wrap around him. Her thumb stroked up his length, sweeping over the silken to collect the bead of slick from the head--proof, if she'd ever needed it that he took pleasure from pleasuring her.

Now she wanted nothing so much as to feel him hard and thickening in her palm, his sac drawing up in readiness, his obscene stomach muscles tightening beneath her hand or maybe her lips... she wanted to see him the way no one else ever saw him, ever would see him, exposed, vulnerable and needy, but open and trusting her to be what he needed.

From:

hellorhighwater

Neil had little opportunity to do more than laugh at her assertion before she was dragging him into a kiss, greedy and seeking--then she was opening his fly, sliding her hand into his jeans to curl her fingers around him and he groaned again, head bowing to press against the curve of her neck as her touch pulled the breath out of his lungs.

"That," he rasped, thrusting helplessly into her hand and pressing a hot, openmouthed kiss against her skin, "is criminally hot. Ember's Breath, I love you...love the way you make me feel..."

From:

fondofapples

He thrust through the curl of her hand, branding her palm with his heat, and even though she'd just finished, her breath caught and her stomach flipped at the size and firmness of his erection. She didn't need intercourse to be satisfied, but goddamn if there wasn't something amazing about having the proof of a man's desire right there in her hand.

She sought his mouth and offered hers up, sucking softly on his tongue to invite it into her mouth. And then, hand in his hair to keep him close and turn off his brain, she took over the rhythm and began, very slowly, to stroke him off. Very slowly, because he was hers now, and she could take her time to spread his slick over his shaft, get him messy and wet and fondle his balls, play with him and know him, love him, instead of just pleasuring him.

From:

hellorhighwater

Neil let himself be steered back to kiss her, greedily claiming her mouth with his own--and needed no invitation to deepen the kiss, hungry still for the taste of her, the lazy luxury of owning it...

The fingers in his hair did their job with perfection, stopping the wheels of his mind dead at the same time she began to stroke him--not just stroke him, but touch him the way she kissed him, drinking him down through touch alone. It was slow, deliberate, not to conquer him the way she usually did--the way she enjoyed, the way he loved to be taken when she used her hands or mouth--but to own him. It was reverent and new as she spread his slick, turned that electric heat of her hand into a wet, sensuous slide of skin on skin--every touch followed by another, different caress.

She didn't chase the things that made him hiss or moan into her mouth, or had him thrusting into her grip as she stole the breath from his lungs. She sought more reactions, more contact--collected them like precious stones, stroked him with certainty and without hurrying, without teasing.

It was a strange sensation, sinking into that slow and greedy touch, while every stroke pushed him higher and her fingers curled into his hair so he couldn't think, only feel how she owned him, cherished him, loved him with every sweep of her hand...but it was also glorious, and as his body burned, so did something in the back of his chest, slow and sweet and endless as I love you found its way into a mind bewitched by pleasure.

From:

fondofapples

When she wasn't kissing him, taking slow possession of his mouth and his body with the weight of her awareness--I love him. I love him. I love him. a quiet mantra in the back of her mind--she was watching his face, learning the way his pleasure expressed itself in his features, and the sounds of his breathing.

Because she could, she interspersed kisses to his mouth with kisses to his chest or his shoulders, traced the separation between the muscles with her tongue if she felt like it, or just delivered small pecks of affection where she could reach. And it was strange, really strange, to have him in hand or against the back of her hand if she turned it to stroke him with her knuckles, and just be watching, loving him, and in no particular hurry to bring him off.

Strange, but lovely, as it gave her freedom to caress his abdomen and soothe it with a steady touch if it quivered too much, and to stroke a hand along his side or over his arm, just to be here with him. It felt, a little, like a ritual of some kind, honoring and celebrating his masculinity--

Which made her smile, kiss him and smile harder into his mouth, because what a man he was. His body sculpted to perfection, his passions strong and his love fierce. Not just a beautiful man, but hers. And he'd never been anyone else's. Not like this.

From:

hellorhighwater

There was something strangely intense about the way she watched him, bending his head to press his forehead against hers and see her eyes flicking over his face when she touched him, when his hips rocked into the stroke of her hand or the intimate caress of the backs of her fingers. She studied him, memorized him, learned him--not just his body, but him in a way she never had. When it go to be too much, her touch gentled, when he needed more she was there with a hand curled against his hip or mapping his arm and shoulder with her fingers.

It felt like being taken apart...but at the same time, like being put together for the first time. No gaps in his armor, no weaknesses, no wounds--the slow, methodical, careful way she pushed him closer and closer to orgasm made him feel treasured, treasured and whole for the first time in his life.

It made it hard to breathe in a really good way in between every kiss, made him press his face against her neck so he could breathe her in, lose himself and burn the memory of each of these particular touches into his soul itself. As his breathing began to gradually quicken, when he felt that familiar slide of heat up his spine that meant he was getting close, he lifted his head again to kiss her, thrusting more urgently into her hand.

"I love you." he rasped against her mouth, his breath hitching. "Love you so much...love how you love me...Beloved..."

From:

fondofapples

The words brought a flush to her cheeks and her chest, a prickle of not just heat but certainty, that this was where she belonged; in this moment, who she belonged with. And the feel of him thrusting powerfully into her hand drove home that he felt it too, maybe in a way having him in and over her or her on and over him couldn't. She didn't have words for why this felt so much more intimate, but she didn't need them.

"Show me," she murmured, less a command than permission if he needed it, to finish in her hand instead of in her body. Then she sealed her mouth over his again, claimed his pleasure and his love for herself, and gave him the friction and speed of stroke that he needed to come for her...come to her, let himself be hers--as she'd let herself be his.

From:

hellorhighwater

The way her fingers quickened and gripped him felt as much an invitation as those quiet words he breathed in with a ragged gasp as his eyes rolled shut and pleasure took him in a different direction: not the heights he usually found in her arms, but dragged him down and into her. His head fell back to the curve of her neck, the weight of his body settled over hers, and he drove himself into her hand until his release spilled over her fingers and his pleasure rushed out in a hot, ragged sigh that caressed her skin.

In that instant, the world ceased to exist--nothing mattered, nothing existed but the heat that blanketed his body, the body beneath him, the heart that held and cherished him as readily as her arms around him or her fingers wrapped around his cock.

Nothing else existed but her touch--he was nothing and no one save for hers, and she was his. The way his swordarm was his, the way his magic belonged to him, so she did as well. Regina, how she loved him, how he loved her, became a new universal constant--something that could not, and would never be taken from him.

From:

fondofapples

For a woman who took such pains to be clean and tidy, Regina took and, for as long as she could remember always had taken, a peculiar pleasure in the slick spill of a partner's pleasure on her hand and between her fingers. And as Neil pulsed out his orgasm, the hot, thick spurts of fluid took on a meaning she had never previously ascribed them--they signified a willingness to bend, accommodate, grow with him, even more, the desire to let him beneath that pristine mask to touch the young woman she had been who had loved horses and wind and the world, a woman seen only in glimpses now with her love of plants and patience with children.

Her preference for rougher men, not so polished or interested in niceties and hierarchies, always something of a fuck-you to Mother crystallized, here and now in Neil, as something that had nothing to do with Mother at all. Or very little. Neil helped her find herself again, helped her be at ease with those jagged bits of herself that refused to be polished and clean and civilized, and just wanted to be part of the world instead of above it.

And despite her mind working at speed to accommodate these new realizations, it didn't draw her away from him or the moment. Instead, it allowed her to sink into it, to caress his softening shaft once more before discreetly cleaning her hand on the sheets, press her lips to his damp temple and stroke his sweat-sheened back while he rode out the sensations and emotions of the moment.

From:

hellorhighwater

It took what seemed ages to regain his breath in the aftermath of his orgasm--stolen by pleasure and the sheer weight of feeling, it felt like not enough air existed to restore his calm until he finally turned his head and found her mouth with his in a slow, greedy, messy kiss that finally let his lungs expand, let his heart slow to a normal rhythm again. It was a weakness, to be so dependent on another person for that ability to feel at ease, to find enough air to breathe and enough comfort for calm...but he wanted to crow with the triumph he felt in it.

He'd always suspected there was strength there, too--and he'd been right. With the fresh pleasure of her touch still buzzing beneath his skin, her hands smoothing over sweat-slick skin, her taste on his tongue...he felt the power of losing his heart, the root of invulnerability.

"Jon dahgo." he breathed against her mouth with a smile he couldn't contain, settling more comfortably over her with a forearm against the mattress beside her head to bear some of his weight, his free hand drifting up to caress her cheek. "Jon uraidh dahgo. My beautiful queen..."

From:

fondofapples

Nowhere to hide with him up over her again like this, she felt...exposed, and somehow shy, as though she were the one who had just finished and not him. She didn't mind it, not with his fingers against her cheek for her to turn her head into.

His words fell like a soft summer rain on her parched heart, soothing and nurturing until it swelled so large in her chest that she couldn't breathe again to speak. She hoped the softness of her smile and the tenderness of her touch along his back spoke for her, because she did love him, and he was already everything she'd ever wanted in a lover--strong, passionate, kind and ruthless by turns, sexy, sweet, devoted...

"Neil," she finally managed, and let the tone of her voice, the velvet of her caresses speak for her.

From:

hellorhighwater

Neil's forehead sank to rest against hers with a sigh as he shut his eyes, back arching a little into those gentle sweeps of her hand, soul yielding under that singular way she had of saying his name--making it a caress of its own that reached inside and filled him with light.

"S' my name." he replied playfully, his smile growing as he opened his eyes again to look into hers. "Please, feel free to wear it the hell out. Love the way you say it...among about seven million other things about you. Love you. I'll figure out a more original way to say it when I recover a few more brain cells..."

From:

fondofapples

"You can't improve on perfection," she murmured to him, smiling up into his eyes while her hand swept over his back. "But you're welcome to try."

Very welcome. With his mouth, and his words. And his body. "Any time."

Her smile grew bigger and brighter, truer. "Every night, when we move in together." That was what had started this after all. And she wanted even more now than she had when she offered a few hours ago. "I don't need my own rooms."

From:

hellorhighwater

“Good, ‘cause truth is I had no idea what I was gonna put in a home gym.” He confessed with a laugh, grinning against her mouth as he stole another kiss. Shifting his weight off of her so he could stretch out next to her, arm draping across her waist to pull her against him, Neil dropped a kiss against her bare shoulder with a hum of contentment.

“Never actually did any formal kind of workout routine back home. Unless you count rock climbing—Castle Nocturne was built into a cliff face. I kept my sword arm sharp, worked on close quarters combat, scaled the cliffs to stay limber, and once in a while I would join the greenhorns in basic to remind myself to keep pushing my limits. None of which I can do in a home gym. Or the castle once we take it over—unless it has cliffs I don’t know about?”

From:

fondofapples

"It's on an island. You could swim," Regina suggested lazily, entertaining herself at the moment with her mental image of his solid, muscular frame cutting through the waves, to greet her on shore. He looked good wet. And dry. And damp. And probably even rolled in mud.

She did sigh then, nuzzling in against him to drape her thigh over his hips--and get the memo from her body that they were far from done, even if she still felt yesterday deep. "I'm not sure we'll be able to get the castle for awhile. There are legal complications that didn't turn up until today. I've been looking at a couple of villas Schnee has listings for."

From:

hellorhighwater

The news about the castle made Neil frown, more thoughtful than upset as he continued to trail his fingers absently over her bare arm and shoulder. It troubled him not at all--castles were home to him, moreso than for most, but it was a matter of comfort for him...he knew for Regina, it was more. Having that castle was important to her...

"You okay with that?" he asked softly, shifting a little closer as her leg wrapped comfortably around him. "Not bein' able to get the castle, I mean. I know it meant a lot to you--little piece of queendom back, big chance for a sort of...social reset. I mean--how upset are you about this? It's okay if the answer is 'a lot.'"

From:

fondofapples

Her eyes stung at the question, not for castle but for the love of a man who knew her well enough to anticipate that she might be upset enough to cry over a castle she wanted but could not have. She kissed his face beside his nose, and then kissed his lips as gently.

"I'm annoyed. Maybe a bit embarrassed that the problems turned up the day I told everyone we could have it, but that will pass," she told him, her fingertips traveling lightly over his hip and his ribcage in semi-conscious echo of his on her arm. "It's not permanently impossible, just for the time being. If I want a castle so badly that it's worth getting upset over, I can open a subarchway to my own."

From:

hellorhighwater

"Long as you're sure." he replied with a smile, returning her kiss, then impulsively kissing the tip of her nose. "'Cause I am here if you need to vent or rant or...whatever." He hesitated, more words on his tongue, more feelings lodging in his chest and clogging his throat...

...then he remembered he didn't have to be careful anymore, and his smile grew.

"Jon dahgo--so I'm here for all of it." he assured her. "That includes pickin' a place. I don't know a villa from a Visa, but we're not living anywhere that isn't defensible. I wanna see where these other places are 'fore we choose one."

From:

fondofapples

"We can go house-hunting on my lunch breaks," she said, instead of getting uppity about being perfectly capable of deciding whether a location was defensible without his help. It would be his home, too, so he should have input, she reminded herself. And he wouldn't override a place she loved, because she wouldn't choose anywhere that couldn't be defended.

"Now..." Her lips curved in a teasing, suggestive smile. "I think I'm sure, but it depends. What sorts of things are included in your 'whatever'?"