http://nyochhavar.livejournal.com/ (
nyochhavar.livejournal.com) wrote in
paradisalost2011-12-29 03:12 pm
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
Entry tags:
Recollection
Who: Abel Nightroad and Lilith Sahl
What: Regaining their Paradisa memories
Where: Floor Six
Warnings: I don't think any will apply, possible eye bleed from tl;dr? EDIT: Now there are warnings for marital nudey times.
In truth, Lilith had been in two minds about the 'travellers' that had come to Paris over Christmas. On the one hand, she had been exceptionally grateful to see Nanako again, the small girl who she knew in her heart that they had loved as much as if she had been one of their own children. However, on the other hand, she had been disquieted by the knowledge that she had forgotten someone so important to her... several someones, and that they were apparently embroiled in some world of magic and uncertainty.
It had raised all sorts of questions about her reality... her world. Was she who she believed she was? Were the feelings she had for Abel real? Was she a doctor? Was she insane and imagining all of this? She didn't want to believe that her life was a lie, it tore at her heart to even consider it. Yet to forget people and events which had been equally important was just as distressing, and she honestly didn't know which way to turn for the best.
It was harder on Abel than it had been on her, she knows her precious silly boy bottles these things up and tortures himself with them. Especially after Christmas, he had become different somehow... he could never hide from her, not properly, but she hadn't pursued what was bothering him, as she trusted him to come to her when he was ready. Patience. Though even her limitless patience was being tested to the limits here, with this confusion and mystery.
Always at the back of her mind, growing stronger for the past few days, was a niggle, a sensation that if she could just concentrate then she would understand. Memories just out of reach, hiding from her and evaporating like water under a hot lamp. It was frustrating, almost frightening, and yet it was a comfort to know she was not going through it alone. Nor was it just Abel, there seemed to be a few of their friends and neighbours who were experiencing this tug from deep inside.
Troubled beneath the serene exterior, she had not slept easily that night, as though she could hear an internal ticking countdown to... something. And that something was clear when she woke. Opening her eyes before Abel, as was usual, she found herself looking at a stone ceiling in a room that was decorated unfamiliarly... or at least, it was only unfamiliar for a moment. But then the colours and patterns took shape in her memory, this was the style of the Vatican from Abel's ti...me...
Vatican.
War.
Crusnik.
It all came tumbling back in a dizzying whirl of memories, a confused jumble that made her physically double over as though she had been punched in the gut. A life in captivity, an angry-eyed boy with a bruised heart, a smiling youth with a horrible future, a small green-eyed and bitter girl. A war, Armageddon... the pain of facing her family over a battlefield, and the peace of knowing Abel's eyes would open with her final sacrifice. She had... she... And then here, this place, a second chance. She had seen her precious Abel's pain of centuries and tried to ease it, and they had married here as well.
There are tears on her cheeks, mingled grief and happiness, as she let her life wash back over her and settle where it belonged. Reaching out a slightly trembling hand, she laid it gently on Abel's shoulder where he was still sleeping beside her and shook him. Would he remember when he woke too? Her heart ached for the pain and guilt that would no doubt take residence in his heart again, for the horrific grief and loss he would feel with recollection, and yet there were good things there too... and she would be beside him the whole time.
What: Regaining their Paradisa memories
Where: Floor Six
Warnings: I don't think any will apply, possible eye bleed from tl;dr? EDIT: Now there are warnings for marital nudey times.
In truth, Lilith had been in two minds about the 'travellers' that had come to Paris over Christmas. On the one hand, she had been exceptionally grateful to see Nanako again, the small girl who she knew in her heart that they had loved as much as if she had been one of their own children. However, on the other hand, she had been disquieted by the knowledge that she had forgotten someone so important to her... several someones, and that they were apparently embroiled in some world of magic and uncertainty.
It had raised all sorts of questions about her reality... her world. Was she who she believed she was? Were the feelings she had for Abel real? Was she a doctor? Was she insane and imagining all of this? She didn't want to believe that her life was a lie, it tore at her heart to even consider it. Yet to forget people and events which had been equally important was just as distressing, and she honestly didn't know which way to turn for the best.
It was harder on Abel than it had been on her, she knows her precious silly boy bottles these things up and tortures himself with them. Especially after Christmas, he had become different somehow... he could never hide from her, not properly, but she hadn't pursued what was bothering him, as she trusted him to come to her when he was ready. Patience. Though even her limitless patience was being tested to the limits here, with this confusion and mystery.
Always at the back of her mind, growing stronger for the past few days, was a niggle, a sensation that if she could just concentrate then she would understand. Memories just out of reach, hiding from her and evaporating like water under a hot lamp. It was frustrating, almost frightening, and yet it was a comfort to know she was not going through it alone. Nor was it just Abel, there seemed to be a few of their friends and neighbours who were experiencing this tug from deep inside.
Troubled beneath the serene exterior, she had not slept easily that night, as though she could hear an internal ticking countdown to... something. And that something was clear when she woke. Opening her eyes before Abel, as was usual, she found herself looking at a stone ceiling in a room that was decorated unfamiliarly... or at least, it was only unfamiliar for a moment. But then the colours and patterns took shape in her memory, this was the style of the Vatican from Abel's ti...me...
Vatican.
War.
Crusnik.
It all came tumbling back in a dizzying whirl of memories, a confused jumble that made her physically double over as though she had been punched in the gut. A life in captivity, an angry-eyed boy with a bruised heart, a smiling youth with a horrible future, a small green-eyed and bitter girl. A war, Armageddon... the pain of facing her family over a battlefield, and the peace of knowing Abel's eyes would open with her final sacrifice. She had... she... And then here, this place, a second chance. She had seen her precious Abel's pain of centuries and tried to ease it, and they had married here as well.
There are tears on her cheeks, mingled grief and happiness, as she let her life wash back over her and settle where it belonged. Reaching out a slightly trembling hand, she laid it gently on Abel's shoulder where he was still sleeping beside her and shook him. Would he remember when he woke too? Her heart ached for the pain and guilt that would no doubt take residence in his heart again, for the horrific grief and loss he would feel with recollection, and yet there were good things there too... and she would be beside him the whole time.
no subject
"I will learn from my mistakes."
She knelt up with determination written over her face, bending to kiss his forehead before standing up. Her voice lowering slightly, edged with a double meaning that wasn't entirely joking, never missing an opportunity to remind him of just why she was so proud of him.
"That is one of the things that makes men great, their ability to learn from past failures; and, in the strongest of men, to consciously choose to rise above their failings and carry on to do better."
And then, utterly spoiling the moment, she began to peel off the layers of her sari quickly. There was a slight darker flush to her cheeks, a little embarrassed, but it would be worth it to hear Abel laugh so freely again. Light material pooled on the floor to reveal dark skin, until she was completely undressed, before bending to reach for the boxer shorts again.
1/2 SCREAM LILITH
...Oh, uh-- w... wait a minute, here he...
He didn't mean, that uh-- she... should, um--
When she draws away, he's about to open up his mouth to protest -- he was quite enjoying their little impromptu cuddling session, even if it were on the floor, and... ah. His words stop short when he sees her reaching for and quickly beginning to, with haste, slip out of her... s... sari.
Abruptly, the heat in her cheeks is mirrored in his own -- and he's sitting upright, looking a little bewildered and taken off his guard. She's suddenly... bereft of any clothing at all, all bare skin and...
Ah.
2/2
"..."
sdkvjnfdh
She is not ashamed by her nudity, they are married and she has years of memories from Paris of them sharing a marital bed, but there is something about the intensity of adoration in his gaze that cannot help but make her self-conscious.
"..."
no subject
The end result is always the same. He loves her... and it is both of these things, these different worlds that culminate, somehow, into one that have pretenses of a silly humor being abandoned. Much as he liked their games of play... much as half of him believes it had never been apart from her... the ache of the other half was far stronger in its need and wants.
So... he lightly tugs her by that wrist... toward him, reaching out with his free hand to wind his arm around her waist and pull her down to him from the small of her back.
He would have loved for the world they left behind to have been real... but it was not. This, on the other hand... was, and he could give the parts of him that had never known that bliss new memories to cover the old. He could still be happy... he could be really happy, here with her.
This seemed like a good start.
no subject
The memories of Paris may have been false, mingled dizzyingly with the real memories of a life only just begun as a married couple and another where they had not had the chance before death had separated them, but they would always be real to her. It made this movement, this sensation, more familiar and comfortable while still sending a thrill through her skin.
Tilting her head to press a kiss to his jaw, she slid fingers up his back and into his hair, stroking through beloved silver.
no subject
Abel tilts his forehead forward, until it's resting against hers... his hand slowly sliding up her back, bare and so... so impossibly soft, warm...
She's managed to calm a soul caught up in the turmoil of returning to this place, of remembering his real life was not so pleasant as the daydream they'd been living God knows how long... The task might've been impossible for anyone else, but she'd done it without seeming to blink. He was, as ever, always in the palm of her hand... yet she never abused that knowledge. His perfect trust in her never faltered, and never would. She would never give him a reason to believe it should.
Even if she did, he would believe in her still.
He shifts, a little... pulling her a little closer and seeming to forget that he was supposed to be shy and slow-footed. Instead, all that seemed to pass through his head was how much he wanted to be as close to her as he could, to prove to himself that this was real and she wasn't going anywhere. He... would never be without her, not... not ever, ever again.
no subject
She might be more self-assured than he is, more serene and calm, but she was still just a woman with fears and sadnesses as all others had. Having him here beside her, being able to be in his arms, was something that soothed her soul beyond any words.
The scent of his skin, all sugar and church incense, is familiar as she buries her nose in his neck and tenderly kisses at the pulse point.
no subject
He tilts his head against her lips, just enjoying the affection -- it's a reminder that he can -- as his hands stray up and down her back. There is no denying that she is and always will be the only person who can make this... burn grow inside him. She's the only one he has ever truly been attracted to.
He knows he's blessed to have her.
no subject
Shifting against him slowly, her hands slipped down to the waistband of those infamous ducky boxers to awkwardly start pushing them over his hips.
no subject
Abel's grip on her becomes less of an affectionate embrace and more a firm hold -- the reason becoming apparent as he tenses to shift their weight forward for the sake of pulling her legs around his hips, and getting to his feet with her held to him, lips pressed to her jaw. He carries her for the bed, bypassing her discarded sari and those silly patterned boxers she'd been reaching for.
He leans to gently rest her back upon the sheets, staying down over her... holding his weight up with one arm to look upon the woman who still manages to make his knees weak, even now. There's nothing short of the utmost adoration in his eyes, fondness and affection... soft little smile tugging at his lips.
no subject
Laying back on the bed, allowing him to manipulate her any way he chose with perfect trust, she kept her arms twined around his shoulders to keep him drawn down with her.
Stretching her neck up to press her lips against his, she was reminded strongly of how blessed she was to have someone she loved so perfectly mind, body and soul.
no subject
The words were familiar... they were ones he had said many times in that 'past life' in Paris as well as this one -- though it would never be enough to make up for all the time he had in their youth to express as much, yet had neglected to in foolish, brash pride.
He ducks his head down, nuzzling her jaw with his nose... tipping her head slightly so he can kiss the soft skin of her throat, working his way down. His free hand not busied with supporting his weight slid across her hip... then up, over her side and for her stomach. He's almost idly exploring; it never gets old to search her skin with his palms -- or lips, or...
...anything, for that matter.
no subject
"I love you too, Abel."
The dance of his fingers over her skin, gentle and almost casual, sends tingles through her that follow the map he was sketching over her hip and stomach. A slow burn is growing in the pit of her stomach, a desire for her husband that she could not deny.
Her own hands began their own exploration, every bit as enthralled with pale and creamy skin as he seemed to be with hers. One hand stayed on his spine, tracing almost feather-light circles between his shoulder blades, as the other snaked down over his hip and to more intimate areas.
no subject
The encouragement she offers has a little more bravado warming his insides, and he slides that hand up -- over a soft and silky smooth breast, rolling thumb along the nipple before he can't seem to resist the urge to... kiss her, again. On the lips, and with a bit of that hunger for her leaking into the firmness of the gesture.
...Even if his cheeks are still a rather heated pink.
no subject
She feels her body reacting to his touch, arousal seeming to suffuse every part of her as she returns that kiss with deep feeling.
Her hand continues its trail between his legs, always a little fascinated by how one simple touch could produce such a virulent and visible reaction.
no subject
Pulling them together, taut... leaving little wiggle room between them, hands left to explore as they would. Once she gets the flame started... it burns right out of control.
...Let's just hope nothing reminds him his brain is capable of functioning...
no subject
Her breathing becomes more staccato against his lips as his hands explore her just as hers are exploring him, low moan making its way from the back of her throat as pleasure starts to build slowly.
no subject
God, he loves that sound...
His mind is blank; this is a familiar place he's gone many times before -- in his youth, it was in rage, but this is much more pleasant a use for it. A place of instincts and impulse rather than thought... one where the heart rules the body. Yet even still, he's so careful with her... gentle, ever and constantly aware of a deep desire to never cause her pain or discomfort big or small.
He lets his hands find her hips, and slide slightly behind her to pull hers against his -- enjoying friction and heat and closeness more than anything. She calms his soul and she sets it alight together; no one else has or will ever be able to move him in such a profound and total way.
no subject
A little more heated, a little less control, things are becoming blurred around the edges and her world is narrowing to a series of quiet moans and gentle touches, kisses and pants and damp heat.
Her lips find his again, affection and desire mingled in the kiss as she silently gave him the permission that she knew he always sought and waited for.
no subject
Only Abel would wait for permission to take what she had already explicitly given him (and in their memories... for years; children don't exactly make themselves).
His breathing is a tad uneven -- if because her touch makes him lose his mind or because he's trying to keep his cool despite wanting very much to do the opposite is uncertain. He ends up sliding palms slightly roughly against her thighs, parting them further -- and rubbing a thumb against a warm heat where her pleasure is focused. Breaking their kiss heatedly... his eyes hungry, desire making them seem glassy and glazed, he looked down on her and forced himself to wait. To draw it out, just a bit longer... to enjoy the look of her face flushed and the little involuntary squirm of her body in reaction to his.
Please don't ever let there be a day he forgets this... or it is taken from him again. Please; whoever is out there. Whoever gave this back to him... please. He would do anything.
no subject
It happened with a suddenness that took even her by surprise... the anticipation had been coiling in her gut slowly and then his thumb brushed her in just the right way, and she was suddenly stiffening with a small cry. Trembling underneath him, legs involuntarily tightening around his waist to tug him close once more as her face flushed a dark red.
no subject
He moves her hips to his-- this time, not to tease; he's rather certain he has never wanted her more than he does here and now. It's like an ache, and he's so close to what'll fulfill and satisfy it that there is no question of resistance any more. Pulling her up to him, the throbbing hard heat meets the softer, damp and welcoming warmth of her-- and he slides them together, like puzzle pieces slotting into place.
His exhale comes out as a ragged pant, and he leans over her to jut a hand out and catch himself on the mattress, blue eyes finding gold again. God... she's... living, breathing temptation -- a magnet pulling him in. He isn't tugging away when he's got all the reason in the world to succumb to it. She's his.
no subject
Still shuddering slightly from the effects of her orgasm, Lilith was still underneath him for the first minute or two of them coming together. But his movement soon spurs hers, and she is guiding him onwards towards the peak of his pleasure.
She has never wanted anything as much as this, all of this, just being with him and standing beside him in every way as man and wife. No titles of saint or Madonna could ever compare to being a normal woman with a life like this.
no subject
He's hungry because she is; he loves to see her squirm and he loves to hear her voice soft and breathless in desire. He loves to know his hands, his body, can give her something only they share -- that he can love her in every way. In all the ways he should've, so long ago. He was a fool... but he had learned from his mistakes. He was learning, still...
His hand slips between them again; he's slow, at first, to build the rhythm, letting his fingers work over the most sensitive pinnacle of her sensation... it's like a drug, that sound of her moaning. The sight of her writhing. The deep flush of her cheeks and...
Ahh; don't get too excited, Abel... he is trying to keep himself in check; he'll see how long it lasts.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)