pathography | the one where things get messy.

A pleased hum, as though the admission itself were a treat—something she'd been hoping for. That might not itself be the case, not exactly, but she'd be lying if she didn't find it enticing.

And she's not especially interested in holding back when she's enticed just now. It's rare she gives herself this kind of outlet—always too many reasons not to—so when she indulges, she likes to get the most out of the opportunity.

Now that means that she doesn't just let her hand fall to his cock, wrapping around the shaft and giving him a firm squeeze. She also leans into him, she arches against his chest, free hand slipping around Percy's shoulders while she explores his responses to her touch.

Her eyes are trained on his face for every reaction.

Her hand wraps around him, and everything leaves his head. Self-consciousness stands no chance against her touch, and her touch is everywhere. Closed around his length, pressed against his torso, hooked gently around his shoulders - taking up his space kindly but insistently, until there's the water and there's Vex'ahlia and nothing else exists. The whole village could walk in here, and his wide eyes would be fixed on hers still, his arms slowly coming around her in a loose embrace.

No encounter has ever felt quite like this before. Nothing he's done with another person has pulled him so thoroughly from the thoughts that haunt him at all hours. Later, he'll reason it away: He's tired, he's lonely, she just broke him out of prison. Right now, it feels like the best kind of magic, to feel someone else taking control for him. God, but he doesn't want to have to be in control anymore.

Looking at her is like looking at the sun, though - more than a moment, and it's too intense to bear. Percy dips his head, pressing his cheek to hers, hiding his face in her wet hair.

The weight of Percy's gaze is palpable, heavy and heady. It goes straight to the part of her that longs for approval, to be special. She doesn't interrogate too closely how intoxicating that is, or how it soothes an ache in her that never quite goes away. In the moment, at least, she's beautiful and she's powerful and he wants her enough to risk being caught in a public place.

As stuffy and clearly well bred as Percival de Rolo is, the fact she doubts he's the kind of man to forget himself so easily, it's more flattering than he probably knows.

And it only encourages her as she explores him. She's not shy about it, feeling his length, stroking down it, and further still to cup his balls. It's not all pretext. She's sure that his more intimate areas need the attention as much or more than his shoulders or his chest did. That doesn't mean she doesn't exploit the excuse for all it's worth.

Vex is rather proud of her ability to multitask.

There has yet to be a moment when she didn't carry power and beauty in the palm of her hand - especially now, when her palm's pressing against parts of him he doesn't make a habit of letting others near. She's effortless in her charms, so far as he can tell; hers is the grace of a goddess made mortal, offering blessings to the unworthy, providing benediction to whatever poor souls take her fancy.

Percy's never cared to involve himself with the gods more than absolutely necessary, but he could make an exception tonight.

She really is good at this; the entire night, she's managed to be reassuring without making him feel like a milksop, and now she's as sensual as she is practical about washing him. Her hand lingers along his shaft, familiarizing herself with his length as his breath shudders near her ear. Her palm finds his balls, her fingers moving along the seam running between them - and he presses a kiss to her neck, willing himself not to come that very moment. (It's not even a particular touch that's making his thighs tense and his hips nudge toward her, because it's all of it, everything about the fact that he's not alone right now.)

"Vex'ahlia," he moans, embarrassed by the sound of it and unable to stop himself. In an ideal world, he'd be able to follow that up with something coherent - possibly a warning that he's not sure he can hold out much longer, but that his stamina isn't usually this bad, and he thinks he'd be able to manage a second round anyway - but under the circumstances, the best he can manage is, "Please -"

As goddesses go, Vex'ahlia is a fairly earthy one.

There is a certain kind of power that feels as though it comes with this kind of intimacy, this kind of control over someone else—someone who quite frankly seems as though he may be rather over controlling himself. Everyone needs to let go now and again, and after Percy's time in prison and whatever it may have been that came before it, it's clear that it's his time to slip.

Imagine being able to give him that, and him letting go so fucking eagerly.

"It's all right," Vex says. Whether it's understanding or permission doesn't matter, because she doesn't fucking care. She's clearly willing to be flattered by his enthusiasm.

She adds then, "If you go now, I'll just find some way for you to make it up to me later."

Permission, and a promise.

She's earthy and merciful, holding him close, letting him thrust into her hand as though this is anything besides pathetic and needy on his part. Vex'ahlia is a miracle several times over at this point; by all rights, he should be wedged into the corner of a cell beside a festering corpse, and instead he's embracing her like he'll fall to pieces if he lets go. He shouldn't be here, and the knowledge is exhilarating.

He comes laughing at her plan to hold him accountable for his actions later, the sound strangulated enough by his release that it probably doesn't sound much like a laugh at all. And for a moment or two, everything is fine. Percival de Rolo is a normal man living a normal life, and someone else gives a damn about whether he lives or dies (or just experiences a little death). Maybe later he'll sleep in a real bed, beside a living person, and he'll dream normal dreams.

And even after he's done, every tension running out of his body, a hazy sense that things are all right lingers. It's nearly better than the way she'd stroked him earlier, the peace of mind settling over him.

"I - oh, damn," he mutters under his breath, wondering whether it's going to look more undignified to try and capture his jism or to let it linger in the water, since either option sounds rather humiliating. That's the only issue worth worrying about right now. "I recover fairly quickly, for what it's worth - not to presume, but your options are, er. Open."

"I have every faith in you, darling," Vex says with gentle humor, not laughing at him, but with him. At least to a point, as she understands it. This is all right. It's all right to be a little silly, and a little vulnerable and a little human with a woman who has her hand on his prick.

But that doesn't mean she won't find the humor in it too.

"I suspect you'll last a bit longer next time for having this one out of the way."

She softens the observation (if you can call it softening), but leaning in, arching up enough to sink her teeth into his earlobe in a playful signal she's not put off by that.

She's also not all that worried about whether they share the bathwater with his jizz.

She follows up the nip by kissing his jaw. "In the meantime, you're looking much more fit for company now. Feeling better?"

"Much better." He tilts his head slightly, taking in the sight of her with some bemusement. She's close enough that he doesn't have to squint, and the most rapturous description in the world couldn't compete with the plain truth of the look on her face: She's happy to be here with him.

That probably shouldn't be a revelation, but it's not old news to Percy just yet. He feels laughable enough as a rule that he couldn't blame her if this evening inspired mockery, and yet none of it does. Blame the afterglow, but he's really starting to believe the things she's saying, in her words and in her touch. No pity, no boredom, only a woman willing to indulge in a night of pleasure for them both.

"I have some ideas for you," he adds, running a daring hand up her side. It's all coming out shier than he wants it to, but in the grand scheme of things, he finds he doesn't care so much; what matters is that he says it, because once it comes to doing it, he thinks he can manage. (And by that point, he won't have to say anything at all, thankfully.) "Would sitting at the edge of the bath be too exposed?"

That is an excellent question. Vex glances over her shoulder toward the door, then around the currently otherwise unoccupied bathing pool. This wasn't exactly her plan when she brought Percy here, but well—it's not exactly not the plan either. It's not that she wants to be caught, or wants anyone to watch them. The risk of it, on the other hand, does give her a little shiver.

She wets her lips when her gaze returns to Percy's face, taking in the shy desire melting his icy green eyes.

"I think it might be just the right amount of exposed."

"Oh -" Surprise crosses his expression, like she hadn't actually expected to get a yes in return, but he'd like to think he tames it back quickly. He can't help the grin that follows, broad and all too earnest as he reaches over for the soap. "Well, then. We'll get there."

It's not the place to start, though. Percy likes her here before him; he particularly likes the damp press of her body against his. Slipping one arm around her waist to keep her in a loose embrace, he runs the soap up and down her back in long, lazy strokes. Her spine, her shoulder blades, her sides, down past the small of her back to the swell of her ass - and he tips his head down to kiss her as he works, wanting an excuse to close his eyes. When there's nothing left to wash, he sluices water down her body with cupped hands, having set the soap aside for the moment.

His bare palms sweep over her, lingering at her ass - but at a certain point, he's got to move on. Breaking the kiss, eyes wide and roving over her, he opens his mouth, but he can't seem to think of anything to say. Nothing that would rise to the occasion, at least, nothing worthy of the sight of her there. After a moment, he gives up on speech and soaps up his hands, beginning at her hips this time, his hands slowly climbing.

Sometimes, conversation simply isn't necessary. Vex doesn't miss it. Percy pays her enough compliments with his hands as they rove over her curves with the pretext of cleaning the road dust from her skin. His mouth is an excellent accompaniment against hers, or on her neck, or teasing her ear. That last even wins him some shivers of appreciation.

Vex is slippery under his touch, wet and soapy and smooth, and she moves toward him purposefully. As lanky and underfed as Percy is, he's still firm with wiry muscle, and his arms and his hands speak to more physical labor than his speech and manners would suggest.

She can't say the combination is bad for her.

"You seem to have a few thoughts for what we'll do before we get there."

"A few," he agrees, his attention having strayed from her face to her hand, his callused fingers sliding easily between hers and pressing into her palm. It's the least justifiable thing he's done so far - nothing needs care after all the soap she'd used on him - but Percy's drawn there all the same. For all the raw power in her arms (and he could feel it as he'd moved along her biceps, where she's trim but strong in the way all good archers must be), her hands are slender and her fingers, deft. Even blurry, he finds them lovely -

And he's crossing into a kind of self-indulgence he really can't justify, to himself or to her, and especially not after the care she showed him. He makes himself move on, trying not to feel the strange ache in his chest as he does; it's loneliness, he already knows that, and the more space he allows it, the more pathetic and puppyish he's going to look.

Her belly, then, smooth and flat, and her sides. Up to her breasts and skimming past them, warm hands at her collarbone - and then moving back down her chest, his focus settled. Percy starts beneath them, fingers at her ribcage, and then turns his hands to cup each breast, stroking their undersides. Like the rest of her, they're slick from the water, made more so by his soapy hands as he teases one nipple to a peak and (perhaps inevitably) noting silently what her body responded best to, so he can recreate the process more effectively with her other breast. There's a sort of studied concentration in his gaze when he glances up, meeting her eyes.

How strange that having someone hold her hand should feel more intimate than jerking him off had. The way he holds their hands, briefly, sends a shiver through her that has little too do with physical stimulation and more with the way he weaves their hands together and the way his cool green eyes seem to soften as he studies her fingers.

Her heart thuds a little faster in her chest, rattling just a little with a brief anxiety that maybe this is... too much somehow.

It's silly. Children hold hands. She shouldn't react like it's filthy, or like he's tried to get emotional.

She swallows down both the nervous energy and the the heat, and then his hands are on her body anyway, and back in her comfort zone. Having him fondle her breasts, play with her nipples, caress her ribs... that she knows what to do with. She leans into it, covers his hands with hers as she urges a little more pressure, cupping his hands firmly, and by extension her tits.

"Good start."

Vex'ahlia says nothing about his indulgent little detour, and he's grateful. Moving on from it is all the easier for the fact that he doesn't have to justify himself. Add some praise on top of it, and he's feeling reasonably confident, a satisfied little smile crossing his face.

She clearly wants more, and Percy's happy to give it to her, letting her show him just how she wants to be touched. More intently, he thinks, with more certainty as well as more pressure - and he can do that. His touch loses some of its tentativeness as he rinses her off, alternating between cupping water and running his hands along her body, taking in all of her but letting his focus remain on her chest.

Eventually, he walks them a few steps back, hands broad at her hips, nibbling kisses at her neck all the while - careful, of course, not to leave a mark where anyone might see. And then she's at the wall of the bathing pool, and he's straightening up again. "If you'll be so kind as to take a seat..."

Vex's ass brushes the wall of the bathing pool and her chin tips up, her eyes lit and glazed to match the flush in her cheeks.

It's not that she's in a hurry, per se, but there's been a purpose to all of this, a gradual escalation as Percy gained confidence, relaxed in her presence. She's glad to see he doesn't seem to be quite a virgin, but more... brushing off the dust. As it stands, she's more than happy to help him get a polish back on his skills, or guide him where there might be gaps.

She's also more than happy to hop out of the pool, the motion light and cheerful, and ending with her seated on the tiled edge, her hands on Percy's shoulders for balance, her knees spread to make room for him between them.

"Like this...?" she almost purrs, already chasing another quick kiss before he can answer.

His answer is swallowed up by her mouth in the sweetest possible way; her lips on his tonight have made it suddenly, bracingly clear just why people are so enamored of kissing. Not that he was opposed, mind, but a few awkward experiences as a boy hardly made an impact. The rare occasions on which he's availed himself of the services of a brothel didn't involve this kind of affection, either - but Vex is generous in her touch, and she knows exactly what she's doing. No one could complain about that, least of all Percy.

"Exactly like this," he answers, his smile increasingly bright and open. Water drips off her toned body in eye-catching rivulets, and even if he doubts this will be half as revelatory for her as it's been for him, he's sure he can make a decent showing.

One more kiss to her mouth, longer than the one she just graced him with, and he's sinking down into the water, pressing more kisses along her skin as he goes. Her collarbone, and then her breast - not quite brave enough to suck a nipple into his mouth, but unquestionably tempted - and then along her belly. When he's between her legs, looking up at the fuzzy shape of her face, he murmurs, "You'll have to tell me what you like."

He'll find out regardless, kissing along her inner thigh, in towards the heat of her cunt, but there's something about the thought of saying it - making clear just how determined he is to please her - that he finds irresistible.

His view may be fuzzy, but Vex's is clear; shock white hair and that angular face between her thighs makes for a compelling sight. She leans back on one hand, less making herself comfortable and more tilting her hips forward to give him better access, and threads the fingers of the other through those pale strands. She doesn't try to pull him in or push him, but the touch provides a gentle encouragement.

"I like this," she assures him. "I like the idea of you fucking me with that polite, well bred mouth of yours. Your lips all slick from me."

Vex wouldn't consider herself much of one for dirty talk, exactly, but that doesn't mean she's squeamish about providing encouragement, or telling him what she wants.

"I'll let you know when you've got it right, but darling..." Her voice trails off, the smile clear in her tone, the timbre of the words, even if he can't see the flash of her teeth. "I can tell you with all honesty that when it comes to eating a girl out, enthusiasm can cover for a multitude of sins."

The reply she gets is an mm of agreement and his lips making contact with hers - a gentle first kiss to her cunt before diving in, so to speak. Percy's got enthusiasm to spare, fortunately, and her fingers in his hair only add to it. (He's trying not to think about just how miraculous it feels to be touched by someone else, how far he'd be willing to go in order to keep Vex'ahlia's hands on his bare skin.)

And while he's likely amateurish compared to others she's slept with, this isn't the very first time he's found himself with a mouthful of a woman's cunt. The principles are simple enough, a matter of licking and sucking and letting his fingers assist as needed; everything else is finesse and learning a particular woman's anatomy. That, at least, comes naturally to him. It's not so different from working with a new machine, a comparison he's (fortunately) never had a chance to voice aloud.

Which is to say, he fucks her with that polite, well-bred mouth of his, his tongue flicking cleverly over her clit. And he fucks her with those long, callused fingers, curling inside her and dragging along her inner walls. No longer clouded by the pleasant haze of afterglow, he approaches eating her out with the precision of a watchmaker, paying attention to every reaction she offers. When it's clear she likes something, he gives her more of it, then varies his work: new pressure, new speed.

(Really, this isn't so hard, he thinks, in a moment of hubris. His jaw aches a little, but it's a small price to pay.)

Vex might have been annoyed to be viewed as a piece of clockwork, if she knew. On the other hand the diligence with which he approaches the task at hand is admirable. It's also effective.

There's no arguing with results?

She's not theatrical, the noises she wants to make muffled out of recognition of the fact that they're not really so far from other people, that someone could join them at some point. In theory. No need to draw attention. But even so, she makes sure she hears them. Little gasps, huffs, moans—a giggle when he finds a ticklish inch in the crease of her thigh—all communicate when he's found something worth lavishing more of his attentions on.

And when he applies a little pressure to her clit, Vex skips a breath, her hand clenching in his hair tight. She doesn't pull him closer, but she does hold him there, wordlessly begging him to stay there.

She could pull him in - he'd like that - but the little prickle of pain in his scalp is gift enough, under the circumstances. (He likes that, too, more than he would have expected, and fortunately, he has neither time nor reason to reflect further on it.) Even more than the sounds she's been making, all of them encouraging, this moment feels like a triumph to him. He's doing for Vex'ahlia what she did for him, and he's doing it well enough that she wants more.

It's not that he thought he'd crash and burn, but he's buoyed by incontrovertible proof of his success.

With a reaction like that, there's no way that he'll draw back now. He stays the course, letting up on the pressure only in hopes of varying it occasionally, tonguing her clit before closing his lips around it again. His fingers pump into her faster, his free hand resting lightly against her thigh.

Percy's fingers stroking just so while he sucks at her clit has a reaction like lighting a fuse, her whole body tingling and sparking as it starts a chain reaction. She doesn't go off yet, but it starts the chain of events, slow burnings as it ticks down the seconds until she explodes. She can feel it mounting with every thrust of his fingers and when his tongue rasps against her, and she can feel herself falling forward into it.

She leans back on one arm while the one in Percy's hair squeezes again, then eases slightly, then tightens. It's almost rhythmic. Her leg hitches over his shoulder, looking for leverage. Her hips rock to him.

There's an instant when she's laid out before him in his thoughts, not quite visualized, but not quite not. It's difficult to explain, the flash of understanding that Percy tends to absorb into himself so quickly that it becomes inextricable from the rest of his mind: it's more than a checklist of she likes this, she doesn't like that and less than the entirety of her, a sense of self-assurance wrapped up in newfound factual knowledge and newly established skills. He'd be hopeless at finding words for it, even in his own mind, but fortunately, he doesn't have to. I haven't mastered this task, but I'm going to is the sensation that settles into his body, and he's too focused to give it more thought than a moment's notice.

She's telling him what she wants, and he listens. More of everything, the suction of his mouth matching the rhythm of her clenched hand, a third finger joining the first two as they stretch into her. Less uncertainty, less second-guessing - no second-guessing, not when he can tell he's having an effect. He doesn't have a great sense of just how close she is, but she's squeezing tighter, tilting closer. All evidence suggests the answer is a complimentary one.

His hand closes tighter at her hip, and she doesn't have to pull him in when he'd be hard-pressed to get closer than he is, keeping her exactly where he wants her as his lips and the tip of his tongue make a full study of her clit. Whatever else is true, he's going to end tonight having done right by Vex'ahlia, or he's going to smother himself trying.

The attention and focus he showers on that most sensitive part of Vex's anatomy is—compelling. Enthusiasm may make up for a lot when it comes to going down, but there's something to be said for a willingness to learn. Not just willingness, but desire to learn, excitement to learn. Like she's got the most delightful puzzle between her thighs, and Percy is only too eager to master it.

On one level, it's flattering. In her head and in her... well, maybe not her heart, but some other space in her chest that tightens at the compliment his fervor pays her, in whatever organ houses her ego, Vex grows warm and pleased.

On the other, more purely physical level, it feels really fucking good.

"Oh, darling," she whispers, her voice breathy and controlled. And she swears, cursing encouragement. It's an effort to keep quiet. Not silent, but discreet. It's the best she can do.

He'll realize later just how fortunate they are that no one walks in on them - including the proprietor, who'd have every reason to throw them out - but at the moment, his is a one-track mind, and all roads lead to her climax. Vex'ahlia murmurs an endearment that barely registers, darling losing its ironic edge and taking on a warmth he doesn't deserve. And Percy presses onward, determined to see this through.

It's worth it, all of it. The moments of awkwardness and embarrassment on the way to this point are a fair price to pay for the satisfaction of feeling the moment she comes undone, cunt clenching around his fingers and thighs clenching around his temples. She's quiet about it, but from his vantage point, she's not subtle, and he glories in all of it: the heat and the taste, the tension running through every scrap of her, the slackening after. He's with her through it all, until she lets him go and he can swipe the come off his face.

"Well," and there's some new lightness to the word as he rises from between her legs, smiling like an utter moron at the sight of her face. Nothing else comes to mind to say except inanities like I think we've gotten our money's worth and you're quite easily the most beautiful woman I've ever gone down on, you know.

As luck would have it, Vex isn't in any particular place to be judgmental. Not of his smile, or of the lack of witty conversation. Still glowing with her orgasm, she's hardly stoic herself. And the impression that he enjoyed himself doing it... well, it's not a bad look on him.

She takes a deep breath, watching him through her lashes for a moment before she slips back off the edge of the bathing pool and into the water without so much as a splash. It puts her snug between him and the wall; a place she very much intends to be. All the easier to take him by the jaw and pull him down for a kiss, quick but deep as she tastes herself on him.

"Well?" she ask, as though prompting him to say more.

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