Her fingers were in his hair, her lips moving with his, and he felt her need in the slow kisses and the tugging of his clothes to close the gap between their bodies. But she was too short, and he was too tall. His arms wrapped around her and he lifted her, still kissing her slowly and delicately. He felt the strong legs wrap around his waist and he pressed her closer, deepening the kiss, his body urgently wanting her body on his.
"Mey-Rin," he breathed as they parted for her to suck in deep breaths. "My sweet, sweet Mey-Rin."
She smiled and kissed him lightly. "If I can be so bold," she whispered, blushing, "you sound like this is not the first time you thought about wanting to say those words."
He laughed lightly and shook his head, her hands firmly planted in his hair still. "You have no idea how hard it's been for me to want to kiss you when you have forgotten the water in your bucket, or broke all the dishes. You frustrate me and make me feel things I should not feel."
She kissed him deeply and pulled away, her eyes dancing in the low candlelight. "You are a peculiar man, Sebastian."
His mind wanted to voice his answer: you have no idea. But he merely looked at her, his arms wrapped around her waist, shifting lower around her right hip and up her right thigh, tracing it to where it wrapped around his own waist. He groaned; his need was going to have him dragging the towel away from her body if they did not separate.
"Please, Sebastian, I don't mind you looking at me," she whispered into his ear as she kissed his cheek lightly. And in an instant the flimsy fabric ripped into a million pieces and floated around her room, her naked body on his clothed one. He leaned down and placed her on the bed, feeling her desire - her feelings finally sure and firm in his mind - as she unwrapped her legs and laid where he was laying just half an hour before. Her breasts rested on her chest, sure and proud, and he let his eyes finally milk in her body.
His hands traveled down her body and down her legs, feeling the burning heat of her desire through his gloves. He wanted to tear his own clothes away, melt into her, conform his body into hers and take her. Strong and sure. Claim her body for his own pleasures. Stroke deep into her and make her feel everything he secretly desired. But he stilled himself, digging every piece of patience he could still muster. His fingers traveled up to her apex and he spread his hand over it, the heat reminding him of the warm embers of hell. She bucked into his hand, and her eyes flickered in the dying light of the candle. He smiled; desire, raw, unabashed desire. Mey-Rin let a sigh escape and he smiled broader, she knew this was a breech and she did not care. A moan brought him back to her lips, and as he kissed her, he pushed his fingers past her velvet folds, dipping into her.
"Sebastian." His name was like a prayer on her lips.
He pulled away and took off his tailcoat, returned to his person after he finished dinner. His eyes stayed on Mey-Rin's as she watched, biting her lip as he undid his gloves and rolled up his sleeves. Finishing securing them, he bent down and kissed her on the lips, and began to move down her body, showing her how his feelings became naked to her own, to her body, and to his own awareness.
Mey-Rin had made his stoic demeanor crumble as she moved swiftly through her natural skills, and with the grace of a tornado in her maid duties. He found it curious, and then frustrating - how could she be so sure in one job, and so terrible in another. Cleaning up after her was tiresome. He wondered many nights as he paced around the long halls of the Phantomhive manor if he should not simply take her glasses and take the consequences of her sharp eyes seeing him move swiftly and inhumanly quickly. But slowly her smile and her quick wit outshone her milky glasses, and her overly squeaky voice, had found a place in his mind and his favor. And the favor turned into torture as he wondered, not sure how he could let a young girl in his eyes, a mere baby in his long life, turn into something a bit more than another servant in the long line of servants he had moved along with, just as he did with the long line of souls he served. His craving for her falling and him catching her became overwhelming many times, and the afternoon visit to his secret sanctuary was an often occurrence. Her working out in the woods in the nights had made him pause too long to watch, memorizing the lines of her body when she would strip to a simple shift dress, making it easy to move, easy to see how it clung to her curves. He would retreat to far place and take out his emotions, sometimes on objects, mostly on his own body. He would curse her very presence as he would take his own needs in hand and released himself, imaging the very body he now was running his hands over, his very lips were touching, and feeling the heat and desire, smelling her aroma as he kissed into her thighs, closer and closer to his fingers, and her apex.
"Mey-Rin," he breathed, finally leaning into kiss her blooming flower, the strong aroma almost making him loose his form completely.
As his lips tasted her, the flame on the side table flickered once more, lighting up his eyes, making sure Mey-Rin saw his delight as he licked and then savored, the dying of the light and her growing resolve as she bucked into his mouth.
A thank to those who are following and reviewing. It makes me so overwhelmed and blush like our sweet heroine when I see people enjoying my humble offerings of sometimes clumsily clunked words placed in an order that even I sometimes marvel at (ya, I just said I fan girl over myself.. ego much?) It makes me actually want to update faster... like a chapter a day or so. I have a few (er... lotish) written... but... the torture is so beautiful. Oh, hey Sebby, you and the muse plotting against our lovely readers... sheesh. And, now... err.. til the next chapter. /TastingLatte
