faedefrance (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
faedefrance) wrote2009-02-09 04:03 pm
faedefrance) wrote2009-02-09 04:03 pm
Entry tags:
WM 75.3 - The Fallen Ones (RP with ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
1st_of_the200)
Your burning star turned to midnight sun
I will stay alive for the fallen ones
Dancing with the smoke of your devastated flame
Dancing with the smoke dancing with the rain
So cold being here again
So I call your name ~ I call ~ I call your name
The time had come at last for Jocelyn de Rochefort to leave the private school that her parents had been sending her to. Now she would follow her in her mother's footsteps. The High Lady and Queen of the Fortunate Island would very soon be cutting a doorway into the Mists and taking her youngest daughter there to begin what she would need to know as the heir to that Throne. Jocelyn had said her goodbyes, but made each of them sound as if she would only be gone for a little while. She had not quite told a lie, but she certainly did not replace any assumptions being made on the part of anyone else that she would still be a ready companion to her friends, and close at hand. The embraces shared were all too quick, but she did not mind. Jocelyn was not one that was too hungry for the touch of others - unless of course she was being petted by her Papa, her Maman, Amarante' or her Godfather, Hsu, or on the very odd occasion, getting an affectionate and very chaste embrace from her friend, Azazeal.
Those were the ones that she felt in the pit of her stomach like intense bouts of anxiety. And in all honesty, she couldn't quite explain them. Surely it wasn't because she ate something that disagreed with her right before she saw him! There must be an explanation. All she knew is that when she did see him, her heart would race as it never had before, and she sincerely missed the frequency of Azazeal's visits that she had once enjoyed as a child. There were no more tea parties and wanton destruction of Musketeer cookies and cakes now.
On the eve of her fifteenth birthday she stared into the mirror long after everyone else had gone to bed. The candlelight gave her a beautiful glow that was the kind of sensuality that she was starting to pay intense attention to. The pleated folds of her nightdress hung around her now in ways that they never did before as a child. Now her hips were rounder, her waist smaller and the the neckline, though far from being considered provocative for one so young, was plunging enough to show of the beginning bloom of breasts that now made themselves apparent. Jocelyn raised her chin and gave her reflection a smile. She was very appreciative she had inherited her Maman's beauty and her father's sharp sense of humour and penchant for calculation. Reaching behind her she drew the folds of her gown a little tighter, to accentuate the curves even more. At school she had buried these things under her school uniform but was rather surprised when some of the boys at her school were starting to look at her a bit differently. The uniform had stayed the same as it had always been over the last twenty odd years. It never occurred to Jocelyn until now in the candlelight that perhaps the boys were looking at her in such a way because it was what was inside the uniform that had changed after all. She found her thoughts wandering to Azazeal again and what he might actually think of all of the differences in her. Would he still be as glad to see her? She wasn't quite certain, but she did know that she wanted him, more than anyone else, to notice her. Azazeal had been quite appreciative of every spell that she showed him, every concept that she had learned magically that she discussed with him and indeed he gave her some interesting things to think about. These things, whether she liked it or not, would perplex her teachers and they would exasperatedly tell her that she really should not show off so much in class. Jocelyn, however, took it all in stride and went about her business. Was it her fault that the world was slow in catching up to what she knew to be true?
She listened to the rain pattering softly against the glass of her bedroom window and reached into her dresser drawer and pulled out the small box of cosmetics that she had managed to borrow from her mother's vast stores of them, or buy on her way to and from school over the last few weeks. Jocelyn knew if her father found out that she was putting on makeup now at her age, he would give her an angry glance and growl that she did not need them, and certainly not yet. Like any other adolescent girl, it was natural to defy her father - at least in the privacy of her own room. Glamour is something that comes quite easily to Fae children, especially the Unseelie. They have a charm that is in inborn that sucks in every bit of light around them, and these little beings learn how to radiate it back out to the world as if it were something that came entirely from within them. She had been watching her mother at her toilette for years and knew exactly how to do each thing as well as from Amarante and the other matrons of the Château de Rochefort of natural beauty secrets that had been passed from Human and Fae alike. To Jocelyn's mind, these were things were just as important as learning spells or holding glamour of one kind or another. She carefully began to line her eyes with one of the khol pencils that she had borrowed from her mother and carefully smudged the edges with a fingertip. Instantly this small bit of enahncement made her eyes stand out in the candlelight. She smiled, pleased with the reflection and was about to reach into the box for another cosmetic when she heard a familiar voice.
"Bon Nuit, Jocelyn," the voice, low and lilting said from somewhere in the darkness of her room.
She gasped and whirled around to see Azazeal sitting quite contentedly in the wing chair in the corner of her room. He had been watching her the entire time. She nearly squealed with delight at seeing her friend but then quickly clasped her hand over her mouth. "Azazeal! What are you doing here?" she asked in a whisper, "how did you get through Maman's wards?"
Azazeal just offered her a smile and slowly rose from his chair to come over to her at the dressing table. He was tall, so very tall and now he was close...'and why the hell was her stomach doing that flip-flop thing again?' she wondered.
Muse: Jocelyn de Rochefort
Fandom: Original Character
Word Count:1096 (not counting lyrics)
I will stay alive for the fallen ones
Dancing with the smoke of your devastated flame
Dancing with the smoke dancing with the rain
So cold being here again
So I call your name ~ I call ~ I call your name
The time had come at last for Jocelyn de Rochefort to leave the private school that her parents had been sending her to. Now she would follow her in her mother's footsteps. The High Lady and Queen of the Fortunate Island would very soon be cutting a doorway into the Mists and taking her youngest daughter there to begin what she would need to know as the heir to that Throne. Jocelyn had said her goodbyes, but made each of them sound as if she would only be gone for a little while. She had not quite told a lie, but she certainly did not replace any assumptions being made on the part of anyone else that she would still be a ready companion to her friends, and close at hand. The embraces shared were all too quick, but she did not mind. Jocelyn was not one that was too hungry for the touch of others - unless of course she was being petted by her Papa, her Maman, Amarante' or her Godfather, Hsu, or on the very odd occasion, getting an affectionate and very chaste embrace from her friend, Azazeal.
Those were the ones that she felt in the pit of her stomach like intense bouts of anxiety. And in all honesty, she couldn't quite explain them. Surely it wasn't because she ate something that disagreed with her right before she saw him! There must be an explanation. All she knew is that when she did see him, her heart would race as it never had before, and she sincerely missed the frequency of Azazeal's visits that she had once enjoyed as a child. There were no more tea parties and wanton destruction of Musketeer cookies and cakes now.
On the eve of her fifteenth birthday she stared into the mirror long after everyone else had gone to bed. The candlelight gave her a beautiful glow that was the kind of sensuality that she was starting to pay intense attention to. The pleated folds of her nightdress hung around her now in ways that they never did before as a child. Now her hips were rounder, her waist smaller and the the neckline, though far from being considered provocative for one so young, was plunging enough to show of the beginning bloom of breasts that now made themselves apparent. Jocelyn raised her chin and gave her reflection a smile. She was very appreciative she had inherited her Maman's beauty and her father's sharp sense of humour and penchant for calculation. Reaching behind her she drew the folds of her gown a little tighter, to accentuate the curves even more. At school she had buried these things under her school uniform but was rather surprised when some of the boys at her school were starting to look at her a bit differently. The uniform had stayed the same as it had always been over the last twenty odd years. It never occurred to Jocelyn until now in the candlelight that perhaps the boys were looking at her in such a way because it was what was inside the uniform that had changed after all. She found her thoughts wandering to Azazeal again and what he might actually think of all of the differences in her. Would he still be as glad to see her? She wasn't quite certain, but she did know that she wanted him, more than anyone else, to notice her. Azazeal had been quite appreciative of every spell that she showed him, every concept that she had learned magically that she discussed with him and indeed he gave her some interesting things to think about. These things, whether she liked it or not, would perplex her teachers and they would exasperatedly tell her that she really should not show off so much in class. Jocelyn, however, took it all in stride and went about her business. Was it her fault that the world was slow in catching up to what she knew to be true?
She listened to the rain pattering softly against the glass of her bedroom window and reached into her dresser drawer and pulled out the small box of cosmetics that she had managed to borrow from her mother's vast stores of them, or buy on her way to and from school over the last few weeks. Jocelyn knew if her father found out that she was putting on makeup now at her age, he would give her an angry glance and growl that she did not need them, and certainly not yet. Like any other adolescent girl, it was natural to defy her father - at least in the privacy of her own room. Glamour is something that comes quite easily to Fae children, especially the Unseelie. They have a charm that is in inborn that sucks in every bit of light around them, and these little beings learn how to radiate it back out to the world as if it were something that came entirely from within them. She had been watching her mother at her toilette for years and knew exactly how to do each thing as well as from Amarante and the other matrons of the Château de Rochefort of natural beauty secrets that had been passed from Human and Fae alike. To Jocelyn's mind, these were things were just as important as learning spells or holding glamour of one kind or another. She carefully began to line her eyes with one of the khol pencils that she had borrowed from her mother and carefully smudged the edges with a fingertip. Instantly this small bit of enahncement made her eyes stand out in the candlelight. She smiled, pleased with the reflection and was about to reach into the box for another cosmetic when she heard a familiar voice.
"Bon Nuit, Jocelyn," the voice, low and lilting said from somewhere in the darkness of her room.
She gasped and whirled around to see Azazeal sitting quite contentedly in the wing chair in the corner of her room. He had been watching her the entire time. She nearly squealed with delight at seeing her friend but then quickly clasped her hand over her mouth. "Azazeal! What are you doing here?" she asked in a whisper, "how did you get through Maman's wards?"
Azazeal just offered her a smile and slowly rose from his chair to come over to her at the dressing table. He was tall, so very tall and now he was close...'and why the hell was her stomach doing that flip-flop thing again?' she wondered.
Muse: Jocelyn de Rochefort
Fandom: Original Character
Word Count:1096 (not counting lyrics)
no subject
In front of her, his gaze looked through the bright, rich blue fissure that was opening before them both and into the young woman on the other side. He said nothing, knowing not to do anything to break her concentration. The breeze that came through the opening also lifted the ends of his hair as it grew stronger. And he waited, waited to see what Jocelyn would do with what she had opened up.
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Jocelyn Ysabetta de Rochefort was no simpleton. She knew or at least she could sense when she was being patronised or played. Both her Papa and Maman as well as her godfather, Hsu and even Azazeal in his own way, had instructed her in the Ways of Power and honed her awarenesses. Jocelyn had been an apt pupil to each of them. She knew that when Azazeal talked to her he always gave her a certain deference. She liked that about him.
She kept focused and followed the instinct that told her she was protected. Inside that bubbling blue miasma of energy and spectoral light were faces, Fae and ethereal that beckined. Of course she could go in, couldn't she? It was natural. Why else open the portal than to go in?
She was about to relax her stance and lay aside her knife but thought better of it. As if on cue, within the golden and blue light appeared a beautiful blonde being. It was uncertain whether it was male or female or neuter. Around him or her, there were several cherub-like creatures that giggled and burbled happily. Jocelyn felt herself smile as the larger more effeminate being reached out a beckoning hand to her to come step through. Her feet, almost of their own accord began moving closer She was about to take the hand that reached out for her when the once gentle looking digits and palm began to turn into a hideously gnarled claw. It reached out and through the portal malevolentlhy and very nearly grasped her wrist that held the knife to pull her in with them. The face of the being turned ugly and haggard. "Come!" the creature bellowed, striking fear into Jocelyn's heart.
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Still standing behind her, he regarded the being that appeared, blonde and effeminate, amused by the cherubic creatures so apparently happy -- how delightfully ironic -- and not fooled for an instant.
The moment the being reached through the portal for Jocelyn, Azazeal also reached forward, pulling Jocelyn's arm out of the being's grasp and pressed her to him, arm around her in protection. He hissed out, angrily in Angelic, warning the being away, but the ugly apparition merely gave an evil laugh. "Azazeal. You're not going to let me play with your toy?" It laughed again.
Again the demon cursed it in Angelic, a powerful enough curse to send the thing reeling backwards. Then, turning to Jocelyn, he told her. "Close the portal before it recovers."
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When Azazeal spoke in the Angelic tongue, Jocelyn recognised it immediately. It was a different dialect, quite similar to the Enochian and the Sidhe that her mother and Amarante’ had been teaching her. The words were indeed a curse, a curse intended to stun but not to kill. The being was sent reeling back in a flash and there was a strong scent of sulphur and other equally noxious things that should not have been a part of the very imagery that had appeared before them just moments before.
At Azazeal’s prompting she pulled a little away and took the same conjuring knife and closed the doorway she had cut into that realm. There was a feeling of exhileration if not just a little overconfidence within her. Just before the portal snapped shut, Jocelyn too cursed in Enochian, “I am no one’s toy!” she shouted. The words on their own sent the Creature back even further and caused it to moan aloud. In another flash of blue light the portal was gone and no evidence of what had happened remained except the slight twinge in the air of sulphur.
It was at this moment she realised that Azazeal’s arm still encircled her waist loosely. Slowly she turned to face him. He did not let go, nor did he step back and in the space of time that it took for her to take two breaths she realised that she was staring up into those blue eyes and her pulse was racing. Jocelyn spoke softly in Sidhe, “Mae govannen, Azazeal. Mae govannen.”
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He knew that with his proximity to her, it would have an effect on her. One that he was happy to foster, although he did nothing to noticeably change anything other than two friends or mentor and student having been through quite an event. He replied back to her that same tongue. "Indeed, Jocelyn. You did so very well, as I had no doubt that you would." He bent his head to place a kiss on her forehead, just as he had done since she was very young.
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His words were gentle and reassuring, but it was his kiss upon her forehead that made her shiver at last. He had done it a thousand times before, ever since she was a baby, but now there was something else behind it. Unconsicously she reached up with her fingertips and touched his throat and along his jawline, not fully understanding what was going on between them or inside of herself. "Merci," she said softly. She hears the rain outside still falling and smiled up at him. "I think I am going to miss the sound of the rain. It barely rains on the Fortunate Island, you know," she said matter-of-factly. Her expression turned seious once more, "Youre leaving soon, aren't you?"
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"Yes, I know. From what I recall, it's a far more pleasant climate." He nodded. "Soon yes, but I'll see you on the Fortunate Island as I promised. In the meantime, why don't we go and enjoy the elements? Call it a farewell to the rain." He held out her hand so he could escort her down and outside. "Come on, there's few things more enjoyable than taking a walk in the rain, in a thunderstorm."
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Down and down the stairs she went, Azazeal's precense behind her seemed to bolster her and give confidence. Still, Jocelyn took each step cautiously, her heart pounding with the need to keep it quiet and to avoid discovery by either pf her parents or her mother's protege'Amarante'. When at last they reached the kitchens she peered around the corner, her hand still entwined in Azazeal's she peered around the corner. The only indication of any sort of life were the dying embers in the very large ancient cookstove that had been banked for the night.
Taking a deep breath and holding it, she momentarlily let go of her dear friend's hand and made for the door, making short work of the latches and focusing her mind on keeping the hinges quiet and silent as she did so. She could still feel the wwarmth of Azazeal behind her when she opened the door and made her way into the small space that was protected by the outcropping of a tower on the side of the Chateau. She pressed her back against the wall of the building and turned to Azazeal. Through the slick foliage just in front of the walkway was a path that was lit with small lanterns that led to the gardens below.
Biting her lip she looked up at Azazeal. "I feel positively wisked, you know," she all but let out a giggle, "I've never done this before. Taking a deep breath, she went out into the downpour following the path in her bare feet, the rain quickly falling upon her skin and hair, soaking her thin nightdress through. The thin pleated folds wrapped themselves around her form but Jocelyn de Rochefort was not the least bit mindful of how she looked. Turning to Azazeal, her eyes flashed and with the mischievous smile she now held a hand out to him. "Come on!" she coaxed, fully caught up in the impetuousness of the moment, "I want to show you the corner of the garden I've been working on!"
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"New things are always good to try, and standing in the rain, among the elements is a very freeing experience." He leaned against the wall, smiling and charmed by her giggle. As she ran out into the downpour and just in her barefeet and nightdress that smile changed into something more hungry. She might not have any awareness of her body, but the way the soaked material clung to her skin, highlighting her young curves quite deliciously. Still keeping his eyes on her, he followed not minding the rain at all. Probably because although the drops appeared to fall on him, they didn't seem to have any effect, and while his coat grew damp, the rest of him remained dry.
He took her hand, this time sharing in her delight and mischief, as well as more subtly how her now nearly transparent nightdress frame two very nice, pert breasts. "I can't wait to see." And down the path they went, all the bit the friend and playmate she had always seen him as.
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He joined her, still smiling, taking her hand she led him toward the small private garden amnongst a grove of willows and oaks and flowering Mimmosa trees, even in the lightning flashes, the layout of the garden, and the groups of flowers could be seen. She had spent so much time on the pathways and the small little shrine that she had made, it looked like a low table or a raised bench and near it was a beautiful statue of the Goddess Danu in bronze that was as tall as Jocelyn herself and oddly bore a striking resemblence to both the girl and her mother. Surrounding the statue were all sorts of lillies and roses.
"She is the Ancestress of all Sidhe,"Jocelyn slicked back her soaked hair and glanced up at Azazeal with a smile, "They say she was a fallen angel...like you." Jocelyn said, her expression suddenly serious, "If that is true then we are kin, like Maman says."
Jocelyn noticed that Azazeal and she had not let go of one another's hands, she glanced down at his fingers interlaced within hers and felt that familar pinprick in her heart along with the tightness in her stomach again. In the rain and the lightning and the wind she noticed that he was still watching her, the smile on his lips had not faded. Being completely soaked she was sSuddenly feeling a little chilled she moved closer to Azazeal, S "What do you think?"
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She moved close enough to him that he could reach out and place his hands on her waist, but he didn't. Not yet. "I know. And we are indeed kin. It is very distant, of course, but we are connected all the same." Now, he did touch her, closing the remaining small distance between them, his arms wrapping around her to warm her wet, chilled body, but also for something else as well. "Not only are we kin, Joie-Lyn, but it was also for your people that I and my Grigori Fell. There has always been that connection between Angel, Demon, and Fae, between you and me. I knew love in the arms of the Sidhe, and I have never forgotten what they showed me then."
His face nuzzled in her wet hair. Now, the spell that kept him from getting wet extended to her, so that no more rain fell on them at all. he lifted her chin, gazing into her dark eyes. "What do I think? I think that you have built this shrine and that we should honour it. Honour sister, your ancestor." His kiss was soft, brief and yet enticing.
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The rain no longer touched either of them, her wet garments clung to every curve of her body and as his lips finally did touch her own, everything seemed immediately to warm. The kiss tantalized and teased her, and with the slight pulling away of his lips, she followed. He tasted sweet, like honey wine and how she knew she must have imagined for ages, yet never allowed herself to give full focus to the thought or voice to it. The kiss was clumsy, awkward and yet, Azazeal was patient. He smiled against her lips and kissed her more firmly, his hands calming her, though everything seemed to be rushing through her at a thousand miles per second.
Jocelyn was conscious now of his hands upon her waist and the close proximity of their bodies. Oh, they had been this close countless times, but until this moment, before they stood in the rain among the flowers, before the altar and the statue of Danu she had not wrapped her mind around it.
Her mind was wrapping around the thought and through it and she liked how it felt, in spite of the heady confusion that this now caused within her. The corded pull within her stomach, the ache with in her heart buffeted her like the winds that were blowing through the trees around them, but not affecting them. She curled into him and felt his body against her own. When at last she pulled back a little she rested her forehead against his.
'On the Fortunate Island, when the time came to give up her Maiden's blood, she would remember this moment, focus on Azazeal...', she thought. It would help her make it through that night - even when she had to....
She forced her mind away from the Rite of Becoming and back where she was. She gasped, steadying herself and looked up. Yes, Azazeal was still there, still holding her. "I...." she began, "what do I...what do we do now?"
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"We do what we want to do." This was right. This was meant. He knew it as he knew any fact, but that didn't mean this was something he could take casually. In truth, he did not want this to be casual. While it was part of his grand plan, he also sincerely liked...and desired...Jocelyn. If nerves, or the prospect of the approaching Rite, changed her mind, he would abide by that. There were other times, even if this was all but perfect. "No more. No less." His lips touched hers again, tasting her sweetness, her innocence...her power.
Even as their kiss lingered and his hands stroked over her hips and her wet nightdress to her bottom as he pressed more firmly against her, he felt it in the air. A very slight tremor, so slight it could be mistaken for the sexual energy they were generating, and some of it undoubtedly was, but Azazeal recognized something else there...a shudder from above and below.
Let them talk. Let them wonder.
Her nightdress still wanted to cling to her as his fingers gathered the material, pulling it higher until he could touch bare flesh.
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She needn't have asked him what to do. Whether a person is Human or Fae, mattered not at all, for unless trained otherwise, the body would always answer when it was called in the proper fashion. Azazeal, undoubtedly knew this language and spoke it with fluent proficiency. With tremblign fingers she found the small opening of his shirt near his throat and felt the warmth of skin, even as kisses rained down upon her instead of the downpour now. Her body had been starved for this, and knew by instinct what the need was.
Everywhere his fingers touched bare skin upon her thigh, then on her bared rump burned and tingled. She could not resist her hips wanting to move and undulate of their own accord toward Azazeal. Something at her core pleaded for more and with a smile against her lips he complied. Closer to the stable and so very solid stone altar they moved. Jocelyn wanted to lie down upon it, she wanted him to lie close to her and hold her till this feeling did whatever it was going to do or passed altogheter, but the want of it to never stop made her wimper in protest. She felt a shudder around them. Was it what was going on between them? Jocelyn de Rochefort had no idea, but to her mind it was a sign, it was the impetus that reassured her that she was doing the right thing - at least as far as she was concerned. Surely no one who had treated her so well over these years would do anything to harm her. Certainly this was not harmful, even as heady and exciting as it was. How could anything so wondrous be wrong? Azazeal kissed her again, parting his lips and hers, his tongue entering her mouth to pursue hers. Her eyes fluttered open again at the shock but quickly the sensations of this and his hands hiking up the other side of her nightdress caused her to press a little closer to him still. (cont)
no subject
Somehow in that steamy, heady persistance that was reaching a boiling point between them, or maybe it was her presence of mind that made her start to pull back. Or perhaps it was the training her Maman had given her, but she knew that what was happening in this current moment in time between she and Azazeal could potentially derail everything. He would not want that, surely not. It felt bigger than a stolen moment in a garden, and her gut instinct reaffirmed it.
Just as his fingertips moved over and between her thighs she broke the kiss. "Azazeal," Jocelyn whispered breathlessly, her skin, both arms, legs and everywhere else was all but covered in gooseflesh, "I....." he kissed her again, but still her mind held on the thought that had made her pause, "Azazeal," she pressed her forehead against his then caught eyes that were darker blue than she had ever seen them before, "I don't know what's happening, but I think I know." She pulled his hands in front of her and kissed his fingers then nuzzled her face against them like a cat marks another cat or person. Her thoughts were a jumble, but her eyes held the same level of want as it did moments before. "Azazeal," she repeated is name, then caught his gaze again, "I have to go to my Rite of Becomming a Maiden. If I don't..." her voice trailed off. His lips seemed to curl into a smile. It was a smile of understanding and a slight nod. He knew, it too. Jocelyn was certain of it. If she did not go to the Rite of Becomming as a Maiden still, anyone could challenge her right to be her mother's successor on the Fortunate Island. If that were to happen, how could she explain it to her Maman or worse to her Papa? At her upcoming birthdate and when he was not in Jocelyn's presence, he was already surly. How could her Papa forgive her if she ruined herself in the eyes of the Sidhe?
Jocelyn collapsed against him wrapping her arms about his wasit and burying her face against his chest. The wet hem of her garment still clung high upon her thighs. "I don't want you to be angry, Azazeal. You're my friend. I love...." she stopped, swallowed back a lump in her throat, at what she had said "I love how you make me feel, but I have to focus on what comes next - for me....for everyone." Her eyes searched his. "Please tell me you understand."
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But not yet. He knew just as well as she the importance of the Rite of Becoming both to her as her mother's heir, and there could be no risk of undermining that eventuality, and to his own plans -- his Grand Undertaking. The pieces to that were falling slowly into place, and he held the most important piece in his hands right now. Already their lust had caused a ripple of power to flow through the Realms of Existence. Heaven and Hell would wonder at what his intentions were, and let them, but Azazeal couldn't let that grow into anything more than just wanton lust. Oh, He might suspect something more devious afoot, but then He always did...suspicious, jealous Bastard, but he was answerable to Lucifer, and the Grigori did not want his intentions known yet to his fellow demons.
He smiled and nodded to Jocelyn, not moving from her in the slightest, forehead still against hers. "I understand. I know you do, and believe me, there is nothing more important that what comes next. Your education, your performing the Rites are what I care about, for you." His hands were still on her rear, and his lips kissed her again, this time gently. "I want you to know Joie-lyn that I care, and I want, but I am patient." The firmness in his trousers that pressed against her told a different story. Promise, when the time is right, we will fully share in this pleasure."
His blue eyes gazed at her, looking deep within her. "But there is nothing against me leaving you with a taste of how I will make you feel on that day." One hand came around her hip and down to her soft, warm spot between her thighs. So very gently, his fingers brushed over her, teasing...promising, yet he didn't spoil her in any way. Ancient words breathed from his lips as he kissed her again. A spell that given her talents she could easily overcome if she wanted, but he doubted that she would. "Dream of me, Jocelyn." And what wicked, wonderful dreams those would be.
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The warmth of his hand sliding over her hip to hover just at her mons, caused her to sigh. A gentle, tentative touch of his fingers lightly stroking over that small, sensitive nub between her thighs caused her eyes to momentarily fly wide open in surprise, searching his. Again, his touch beckoned and she followed. Thrilling warmth spread out over her thighs and through her centre causing her let her eyes flutter closed and to let out a ssmall moan of pleasure. Azazeal had been waiting her whole life to touch her in this way, she knew it. His voiced desire and want of her was one thing. Any man could say such things. But it was his self-ccontrol, even in spite of his obviousl and turgid need pressing against her that affirmed it.
When he asked her to dream of him, she could only murmur a quiet, "Oui." His touch was thrilling. Gooseflesh stood out on Jocelyn's skin, and everything she had ever learned or desired seem to culminate with pinpoint accuracy. Just before she felt as if she might fall, hurtling toward the edge of the precipice, Azazeal's mouth closed over hers in a deeply passionate and heated kiss, muffling her cries.
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Lower down, his fingers still stroked, exciting her and letting her feel that heat flood her body, yet never breaching her. She was slick with her arousal, and he didn't stop when her continued moans vibrated in his own mouth. He felt her tremble and knew he had brought her to that precipice. Pulling back, Azazeal softly kissed Jocelyn's forehead, as he had so many times when she was little.
"The storm has passed." Indeed, the rain around them had stopped, and it was all quiet in the garden. "You should get back inside before anyone misses you. I will see you when I come visit, Joie-lyn." Another soft, chaste kiss. His farewell. Then he turned, smiling back at her. "Don't forget to dream."
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Jocelyn placed both hands on his chest for a final touch but also to stabilise her legs that still felt a bit wobbly. Colours from her release still danced before her eyes. She had experienced plaeasures like this at her own hand, but nothing shared so intimately with another. It made her feel safe and yet vulnerable, too. Jocelyn stood on tip-toe to place another, gentle lingering kiss on his lips. "How could I forget to dream after someting like that?" she asked giving him a small, adoring smile.
Reluctantly she pulled away, and looked over her shoulder as she retreated back into the house and hopefully, undetected back to her room so that she could further the dream.
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