sampippy | A Dorm Room at Voorhees Hall, Columbia University, New York, Sunday

It was the accent.

"What else is there to see that could possibly compare to this?" he asked, his hand sliding down to play with her pearl once more, just to complete the picture.

It was the accent, yeah.

Whereas Xanthippe's own unremarkable Manhattan drawl decided to just turn into a full-on verbal keysmash for a second. Like, no words, just an incoherent noise. So, guess she was sensitive right now, good to know.

Definitely made the thrusts a little more erratic too, for at least the length of one or two of them.

That noise made Hya full-on grin, boyishly pleased with himself at least until she decided to return the favor, working him over harder and faster. "Elua, please, Xan, have mercy," he said, letting his head loll back onto the couch.

"No."

Because he'd gloated, with his grinning. And for that crime, he clearly deserved the punishment of... her trying to ride him into the couch?

Yeah, that tracked.

Whatever, her hands were gripping his shoulders pretty tightly, now, because that helped give her a little more support for the way she was moving up and down on his lap, rolling her hips against his with great intent, because the rush of pleasure from his hand had really kicked things into gear.

That was fair. Harsh, but fair.

"Then you leave me no choice," Hya sighed, cupping the back of her neck with a gentle hand. And then using that grip to bed her down for an intense kiss, hips thrusting up to meet hers, pushing their rhythm into overdrive.

Xanthippe would have liked to see him try for a kiss that wasn't intense, under these circumstances. But only rhetorically speaking, because actually, she didn't want anything but intensity from him right this second.

And he was providing it. The slight change of angle with her being hunched a little more forward to meet his lips now, and his added thrusts to meet hers from below were kind of a game changer.

And that meant she was muffling a desperate keening sort of a noise against his mouth, because she was suddenly mere seconds away from unraveling all over him.

Hya dragged his mouth away from hers. "I'd keep kissing you, but I want to hear you come," he told her, keeping his eyes on her face.

Blessed Elua, she was beautiful.

He felt his own release threaten, shocks slithering up and down his spine, balls heavy and tight, but he forced that feeling down. Not yet.

Xanthippe made another whimpery sound of protest as his lips left hers, but somehow his words immediately soothed that ache. And not just his words, but his eyes.

Which she was now staring into as she rode him a little roughly and a lot desperately, chasing her release, practically every muscle in her body taut with the strain and the want of it. Her lips were parted, allowing every kind of noise pass through freely: her panting breath, whimpers, gasps. His name.

"Hya, oh God --"

And even though she instinctively wanted to close her eyes, she didn't. Not even when it finally overtook her, midthrust, leaving her pulsing harshly around his dick while her hands grasped his shoulders for support and his name rolled out of her mouth again, this time in a rough moan.

Well, there went Hya's grand plan to try to hold himself back enough to try to give her a second. Not with the way she felt when she came, inner walls fluttering along his whole length, squeezing him almost too tight to be born.

He gazed up at her, mouthing the words 'beautiful' as she came, trying to keep from going over immediately as she rose him down into the cushions.

And instead, made it three, maybe four strokes before his vision sparked white and he arched up into her.

Restraint was clearly something they could work on a little later, not right now. As far as Xan went, her best stab at it was that she kept herself from just slumping bonelessly on his lap before he was over the edge with her.

She did, however, press her forehead to his. And then, once he bucked up into her, she pressed down against him, savoring the feel because while the biggest crash of her orgasm had subsided, the throbbing around him hadn't exactly stopped, not with the way those few thrusts of his had triggered aftershocks.

And yes, she'd caught the word he'd mouthed at her.

"Oh, my Xan," he murmured, burying his face in her hair. "You are a wonder." He was panting, trying to catch his breath, unwilling to shift her quite yet. He knew he had to move her before he went soft, but he couldn't help but linger in her heat.

He nuzzled her neck, trying to catch his breath.

She'd move in a second, promise. But he'd just sent another kind of pleasure through her, warmer and fuzzier and hitting all the affection-starved spots inside her, and so she was basking in that a little. While resting her head against his.

"Hey, Hya," she murmured, after a deep breath because right, breathing. "I really like you."

That was more terrifying to say than almost any of the dirty things she could've come up with, so it was best to just let it slip out in the relaxed afterglow when she couldn't overthink the horrors of expressing embarrassingly genuine emotion.

"I really like you, too, Xan," Hyacinthe said easily, no hesitation at all. He nuzzled her cheek. "Even those times you don't greet me at the door afire with need." He kissed her again, reluctantly easing himself out of her at the same time to dispose of the sheathe. "I will admit, though, I am fondest of those times."

Xanthippe snorted, softly, settling back down onto his lap, mourning the loss of one point of contact but still enjoying the rest. "I mean, it's pretty easy to be like that," she said, one hand creeping up to lazily twirl some of his curls around her fingers. "You're hot."

But it wasn't just that, really.

Hyacinthe smiled, fingers combing through her hair. "I would pretend to be affronted," he teased, "but I am feeling far too relaxed at present to truly make a believable go at it."

Leaning in, he let his finger brush along her cheek. "But I can say, with all sincerity, you feel good in my lap."

"Thanks."

... Good to know she could still feel lame about saying things around him, because she felt it immediately after saying that single word. But it still didn't feel like as serious a thing as it might have, a year ago.

Anyway, she was nuzzling his hand. "Really it's that you kinda showed up at the right time."

"Oh?" Hyacinthe asked. "You mentioned something about tears breaking things?"

Because he thought that pointing out that she'd seemed frazzled and harried might make her self-conscious again. Though it had led to her practically jumping on him, so he couldn't complain much.

She sighed heavily, putting her head against his shoulder and nuzzling his neck. "It's this paper I have due next week."

Which she could only talk about that freely and without hyperventilating because she'd just jumped him. It had mellowed her down to just complain-y. For now.

"It's been destroying my life for like three days." A little dramatic, there, Xan, but okay.

"Why?" Hyacinthe asked.

He was no scholar, though by this point, his education put him on par with most nobility in Terre D'Ange. Only the Habiru scholars, the scions of Shemhazai, and the pupils of Delaunay himself could be said to receive more schooling.

Of course, had he attended literally any other school than Damdom, he might have understood Xan's panic.

"Because it's like, a really important paper." As you could tell from the emphasis.

She twisted his hair tightly around her fingers. "If I don't do really well, I might flunk the class."

"Flunk?" Hyacinthe asked.

That was not a word Phedra had ever taught him, nor one he'd picked up on his own.

Again, Fandom.

Yeah, the laugh that Xanthippe huffed out was directly connected to the realization that he'd never had to worry about - even when they'd been at the same school together.

(She'd had to worry even at Fandom, but only because she'd taken so many independent classes online.)

The laugh was also dry and joyless and kinda more of a noise that signaled her feelings on the unfairness of it all. "It means failing the class," she explained. "And possibly failing out of the school, too."

The time Hyacinthe was from, even those nobles who could read often did so by moving their lips. The universities we're for the idle wealthy, of which he was neither.

"It seems cruel, to make so much hinge on so little," he said, brow furrowed. "Would you rather I left, that you can work? Or is there aught I can do to assist?"

He was thinking more 'sharpen quills' and 'refresh ink' than anything else. Xan was far smarter than he.

Xanthippe pulled back to look at him. "I don't know, do you happen to know anything about the effects of seventh wave feminism on the eyeliner industry?"

So maybe the help she needed wasn't really on the level of ink and quills. If she'd even used those.

"I don't even know what all of those words mean when used in that order," Hyacinthe said unashamed of his ignorance. Xanthippe would hardly understand what he meant if he asked her to, say, discuss the effect the philosophies of Naamah had on the industrialization of Terre D'ange, or some such. "Would it be better, then, that I leave you in peace?"

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