Vergil's presence and support of her fantasy, as she speaks it, steels it within her mind, so that should she turn the fantasy into a reality, should she partake in the fantasy they discuss, she might recall how he feels now and feel it around her then. It nudges and presses at the corner of her mind in a warm blissful way that she doesn't look too closely at. Not now as pleasure runs through her and she focuses on his words and hers. Not now as she groans at the all too true promise that he makes her wait, that he drives her to call out his name and, yes she admits, even beg.
There's longer yet, Mizu resists begging far longer than she withholds being demanding. The words Vergil speaks turns it nearly into one of their games, where she must last as long as she can. Her chest heaves, and Mizu presses into his hand and tail with complete trust that he has her and supports her. Her body grows more tense, her toes curling, and she rocks toward her own hand, toward Vergil's.
"I want you," Mizu tells him, "Like metal wants to be forged. It'd be so easy to grant myself relief, but I..." She shudders as she moves her fingers in circles to drive her want further. "Don't. I don't want it to end. I want you."
Her words flow with little thought to them. Mizu's too distracted to paint much of an image with her words. It's longing, freely given.
He matches the rock of her hips in the way he continues to tease her with his fingers, using the heel of his hand occasionally to add to the pressure of her circles. Vergil's other hand and tail remain firm at her back in keeping her contained within his lap while still able to chase after her pleasure as she wills it. He does not need the fraying of thought to her words, the loss of an image to accompany them to know just how close she is to her peak. Vergil recognizes it in her movements, in the way her body is growing tenser. Even the way she draws breath, the sounds that slip from her.
He does not think much of what she says about not wanting it to end. At the very least, Vergil does not believe it more than a want of the fantasy to last. Even if it comes coupled with such relief and release, the end of a fantasy is akin to that of waking from a pleasant dream. It leaves behind a good, warm feeling, but the specifics of it are far too quick to fade from one's mind. Mizu is drifting further away from fantasy as she loses herself to the sensations she's feeling here and now. He doesn't doubt that may be yet true should she ever use this moment, this fantasy later in his absence. How much harder might it be for her to hold onto his words, his face, the feeling of his hands upon her when floods of pleasure threaten to drown her?
"Have me then," he says, slipping a finger inside her finally. Vergil turns his head to repeat the words in her ear, little more than a breath as he presses another finger inside her. "It's not the end. I'm yours, Mizu. Whenever you want me, I'm always yours."
The fantasy may take a moment to pause upon her climax as she loses total sense of herself and perhaps even connection with her own body beyond the waves of pleasure crashing into her again and again. But she can still find him once more as she comes down from the high. She may be more cognizant that she's in her own bed alone, tangled in sheets rather than with him directly. But he will still be there. His scent, his clothes, the memory and vision of him in her mind's eye. Even that warm, languid feeling that follows, Mizu can find him close to her still. Vergil hooks his fingers inside her to reach and attend to that sweet spot within.
Mizu presses forward toward pleasure and the release promised rather than turn away from it. Should she turn away, slow down, and relax, she will surely lose the vision in her mind. She needs it to last and to stay with her until the end, if not after, so that she may wrap Vergil around her when he is gone, even for a night. Tenderly, she holds onto it, on the feeling of how he holds her, so it imprints on the scene, and oh that scene continues head on.
She both rocks harder against her own movements and grows tense, body locking up more and more so that it does not listen to commands. Her words are gone, loud moans and whining replacing them. A steady stream that builds in volume with her pleasure. He speaks, and the words penetrate in a haze. Her arm around him tightens, and her hand digs into his shoulder where it lays. Around her, with her, in her, Mizu has Vergil. She can no longer tell whether the fantasy is of her in bed fantasizing or Vergil in bed with her, meeting her pleasure as he is now.
The pleasure overtakes her like the ocean, not one wave but an onslaught of them that surrounds her and keeps coming. Everything flashes blank, and Mizu shakes and shudders. Her fingers stop moving against her, and the tremors ebb away. They leave Mizu warm and boneless. Her head leans against Vergil, and she lets her eyes stay closed a while. She can smell him, feel him, and little else. Her arm hangs limp in her lap, and Mizu stays there, the echoes of pleasure racking through her. She's not sure how long she stays there, it feels both instantaneous and stretched toward forever. She's satisfied then to do...
Nothing. Simply be there in Vergil's arms.
In time, she nuzzles closer and says softly, "I always want you."
Even as Mizu loses more and more voluntary control over herself, Vergil continues to pump his fingers within her. Words leave her, replaced by sounds of want and need and eventually release as she begins pulsing tightly around, and she's never sounded so sweet to his ears. Swept away by pleasure, Mizu keeps a tight hold of Vergil. Her fingers at his shoulder dig deep, bruising in their grip and sure to leave little half-moons that linger just a bit longer than the bruises themselves until she practically collapses against him. Withdrawing his fingers from her slowly as she recuperates against him, Vergil uses his tail to bring her legs together again. He relinquishes his tail's grip on her leg then, allowing it do de-manifest so Vergil can lean back against the tub wall more comfortably. Vergil's other arm replaces where his tail had been around her waist as he holds her there against him. He presses little kisses to her head and what he can reach of her cheek. Until she comes back to him, Vergil has a firm hold on her and allows his little touches to bring her back to her body.
He returns her nuzzling affectionately.
"I am always yours to have," he says back like a sacred promise. Whether it is limited to just her mind or not, Vergil is hers as he promised before. She needn't want or long for him.
For the moment, Mizu believes him. Hers, always. The feeling cocoons her as much as Vergil holding her, and the two link themselves together. In that space, there's no rush to do... anything. Mizu could stay in the water until her skin wrinkles like an old man's. Her thoughts return, but they're different than before.
Vergil is in every part of Mizu's life in Folkmore. More important than what help he's occasionally given to her research are all the memories of reading together. Mizu speaks up when she finds something of interest or something Vergil might have insight into, as different as their worlds might be. He bought her the tools she uses to make weapons, and he's a part of her sword and with it every fight she uses it in. He brought Kai back to her life. Sometimes it's a small part, sometimes it's larger. Like a series of woodblock prints, he can always be found somewhere on each one.
That's why she can say, "I know."
She knows without him saying it, but she likes to hear him say it. Mizu sits up so she can see his face. She gestures toward the bedroom, where they undressed. "You're not getting that shirt back tonight. Or tomorrow. I have one that smells like me you can wear."
To hear her say she knows fill Vergil with a feeling he doesn't know how to articulate beyond that it is warm and pleasant, and satisfies something within him. They are impermanent. There is no version of them that persists beyond this realm that is more than memories. Memories that can and will inevitably fade with time. But this makes them feel more than that. Not some foolish notion that they were inevitable, but that each of them have chosen the other. And nothing can unmake that choice. Vergil watches her with a softer gaze as she sits up, gesturing back towards her bedroom and stakes her claim on his shirt.
"Is that so?" Vergil brings one of his hands up to her face, caressing it. It's no secret he's admiring her eyes this close, as he is often wont to do. "I suppose since you don't intend to send me home without anything to wear at all, I'll indulge your whims this time."
As though Vergil is not always ready and primed to indulge her whims, and that he didn't already have a suspicion that she was going to lay claim to his shirt tonight so it was more or less a foregone conclusion that he would be wearing one of the shirts he left here last time.
As restful and calm as Mizu feels, the moment feels odd for Vergil to admire her eyes. Her liveliness and mood may live in them, but there's little of that to see. A little playfulness over deep calm. The color must stand out all the more for nothing to distract from it, but Mizu holds Vergil's gaze without turning away. As little as she understands it—even his appreciation of her spirit he sees there is one of logic, not feeling—Mizu permits it. The ever foreign feeling washes over her. Vergil looks at her and her eyes with admiration and appreciation, without hesitance or repulsion. A year ago she would say the sun would sooner rise in the west and set in the east than anyone look at her eyes so intently with pure affection.
Her eyes light up in amusement as Vergil mentions going home naked. "It would be better I send you off with nothing at all than only a shirt, would it not?" Mizu asks, "You need only transform until you reached the privacy of your room. Carrying or wearing a shirt like that would only draw more attention to you."
She pauses. "I suppose you could don the shirt before you transform. That would work, and it would make that shirt smell like you faster."
The greatest issue at stake, clearly.
"Why then, I could dress entirely in your clothes with only modest effort to account for your size." Mizu is tall, for a woman, but many men are taller than her still. Vergil among them. It's no serious idea, given he's nearly a head taller than her. His shirts drape her, and she has no experience with the sorts of clothes he wears that she'd easily take them in to wear them properly. Yet there's an appeal there beyond Vergil forced to transform to hide his human nakedness.
Vergil raises an eyebrow at first. Ignoring for the moment how impossible it would be to get his shirt on after transforming, the notion that carrying it while transformed would somehow draw more attention is absurd. He's fairly certain his non-human appearance at the time of transformation would serve well enough in drawing attention from others all on its own that the shirt wouldn't likely register at all. Except for his family who would perhaps be more prone to piecing everything together, which would provide Dante with ammunition for at least a month and likely a degree of emotional scarring for Nero.
"So, I have merely planted the seeds for more devious schemes," Vergil says, his hand moving to hold Mizu's chin instead. Vergil gives her face a playful shake at her hypothetical plans for stealing all of his clothes in mock disapproval. "I know you to be plainly useless in protecting my remaining virtue, but that you would even consider sending me home naked or very nearly naked for your own gain..."
Vergil turns her face aside by the time he's done shaking it. But he only turns it aside for the sole purpose of leaning up and kissing her cheek as he wraps his arm back around her.
"I suppose Kai is not the only one being spoiled rotten around here if you're coming up with ideas like that and speaking of them so confidently," he teases, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth before settling back.
Her energy returned to her, Mizu sits easily in Vergil's lap, aware it would unfortunately be difficult to so manage with him transformed. He has so many sharp angles to consider, but Vergil undoubtedly does not wish to hurt her by holding her. For her part, Mizu would be more bothered at how she could not even momentarily mark his skin. Something that resists her sword could deflect her teeth with ease. Yet it's an appealing shape and imagining Vergil in it outside combat appeals to her.
"Beyond our sparring, you have yet to deny me anything," Mizu says. She leans in and kisses the corner of Vergil's mouth. "Every time I have asked you for something, you have given it to me without reservation. You have granted my wishes before I knew I had them."
She cannot consider herself and Akemi, the princess the one who comes to mind at the idea of someone spoiled rotten. She expects people to do her bidding and serve her needs with little thought to what they might want or consider for themselves. Though Mizu must admit she's strong willed enough to see herself through where other spoiled sorts would crumble. No, that's not the image of spoiled Vergil teases and paints. It's far more awe inspiring. As little as Vergil may be inclined to return home transformed and naked but for the natural armor that protects him, Mizu firmly knows he would if she truly and deeply needed, no wanted, his clothes for her own that instant.
Kai herself is the way Vergil most spoiled Mizu. Not once did she consider that Kai could come to Folkmore. Only one day, near her birthday, the horse stood before her home alone. No one with her. No note. Nothing. Only an impossible reunion that saw Mizu squeal with delight as she's never done before. Every day Mizu feeds Kai and rides with her, the ground disappearing below Kai's blur of hooves. And Mizu? Mizu feels the happiness she felt then. Twofold for their separation.
Mizu says nothing, yet again, about Vergil giving her Kai. She knows.
"Where are your selfish whims that would take my virtue, had I any?" Mizu asks, "Or ought I spoil you more. Tell me what you want."
It is a smile that she kisses the corner of when she mentions their sparring as something Vergil has denied her in the past. She did well in managing her frustrations over it. But that management was likely because she correctly guessed that Vergil would refuse to entertain even the notion of continued sparring were she to do anything less than accept the limit he placed. What they do is not a true fight, and thus, it requires a degree of trust. Pushing or manipulating past his limit would have put an end to his mild amount of trust, and subsequently their sparring. But just because Mizu managed her frustrations does not mean she did not make her frustrations plain and clear to him. Vergil regarded it a bit warily back then, uncertain if she would ultimately accept the limit, but in hindsight, it's almost adorable the way she was on the verge of pouting over it at times. It is why he smiles. Vergil does not often seek to frustrate her, but there is something undeniably endearing about those lighter forms of frustration.
And then there is the question again. Except it's not posed as a question, as she had earlier. When she asked, Vergil considered the question carefully at its surface of what he might want and came up short. In of itself, that is not all that peculiar. Rarely is it that Vergil has an answer when anyone asks him what he wants. But when she asked then, Vergil pushed past reflex to sincerely consider it and really could not think of more that he might want in that moment. He came here tonight to ensure that Mizu was able to eat well as his chief priority. But the secondary was to have her time and attention, to be close to her and share in affection with her in the ways they only do when they're alone. He did not care what the shape of all that took, only that it was there. And it was. It still is.
...But still Vergil cannot help feeling that the answer ought to be different as well. He isn't certain if it's because the question is delivered differently or if it's a consequence of the frustration that was spilling out from her earlier when Mizu could not appreciably mark his skin that only makes itself known now. He just knows it feels wrong somehow to say there's nothing that he wants, nothing that she can give him.
"It is one thing to ask me to consider a hypothetical, but it is another to ask me to entertain an impossible one," he teases lightly on the matter of her virtue, allowing the playful ribbing to act as a buffer rather than silence. Comfortable as they both as with silence between them, Vergil thinks it would rest too heavily now that he does not want to chance it. "It is difficult for me to long for anything when the greatest of my wants is right here in my lap."
It may be a mark of her greed that Mizu always finds more to want with Vergil, from Vergil. Missing him and wearing his shirts started off a secret desire, one she would not think to discuss as they have tonight, but since he came unannounced (as she gave him an invitation to come any time) to her reading in it, it's become known, something she can raise in conversation and acknowledge. Whether that was their earlier conversation about what she smells like or here, joking about sending him home naked. Mizu wouldn't, no matter that Vergil could use the Yamato to travel directly between her home and his room, but she can entertain the idea in amusement. Perhaps some day she'll ask him to leave an entire set of clothes here, extravagant as that feels. For her to wear or for him to change into should he come from slaughtering monsters in Cruel Summer. In the end, it's but one more example of some desire that comes to light from spending time together.
As much as she takes, Mizu wants to give him as much—anything he might want or even not know he wants. With great pleasure, she's discovered his hungry desire when she defeats a demon in the fighting pits and the heady truth that she can take him in all the varied tenderness and need as he takes her. Something Madam Kaji opted not to show her that night before they reached their agreement. Mizu's greed extends to wanting to give Vergil as much in return, and perhaps, just perhaps, Mizu feels comfortable enough to brush against the thought, to give him enough that it sustains him when she's gone.
Briefly considered, Mizu sets the thought aside.
"I hope you think of me and manifest that longing when I am gone, as I have just done imagining mornings when we're apart," Mizu says softly. She brushes his cheek and would not blame him if he were chastened by living with his family, a door so flimsy a thing between them. "Now when you wake, you can know I may have thought of you and done the same."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
There's longer yet, Mizu resists begging far longer than she withholds being demanding. The words Vergil speaks turns it nearly into one of their games, where she must last as long as she can. Her chest heaves, and Mizu presses into his hand and tail with complete trust that he has her and supports her. Her body grows more tense, her toes curling, and she rocks toward her own hand, toward Vergil's.
"I want you," Mizu tells him, "Like metal wants to be forged. It'd be so easy to grant myself relief, but I..." She shudders as she moves her fingers in circles to drive her want further. "Don't. I don't want it to end. I want you."
Her words flow with little thought to them. Mizu's too distracted to paint much of an image with her words. It's longing, freely given.
no subject
He does not think much of what she says about not wanting it to end. At the very least, Vergil does not believe it more than a want of the fantasy to last. Even if it comes coupled with such relief and release, the end of a fantasy is akin to that of waking from a pleasant dream. It leaves behind a good, warm feeling, but the specifics of it are far too quick to fade from one's mind. Mizu is drifting further away from fantasy as she loses herself to the sensations she's feeling here and now. He doesn't doubt that may be yet true should she ever use this moment, this fantasy later in his absence. How much harder might it be for her to hold onto his words, his face, the feeling of his hands upon her when floods of pleasure threaten to drown her?
"Have me then," he says, slipping a finger inside her finally. Vergil turns his head to repeat the words in her ear, little more than a breath as he presses another finger inside her. "It's not the end. I'm yours, Mizu. Whenever you want me, I'm always yours."
The fantasy may take a moment to pause upon her climax as she loses total sense of herself and perhaps even connection with her own body beyond the waves of pleasure crashing into her again and again. But she can still find him once more as she comes down from the high. She may be more cognizant that she's in her own bed alone, tangled in sheets rather than with him directly. But he will still be there. His scent, his clothes, the memory and vision of him in her mind's eye. Even that warm, languid feeling that follows, Mizu can find him close to her still. Vergil hooks his fingers inside her to reach and attend to that sweet spot within.
"Come for me."
no subject
She both rocks harder against her own movements and grows tense, body locking up more and more so that it does not listen to commands. Her words are gone, loud moans and whining replacing them. A steady stream that builds in volume with her pleasure. He speaks, and the words penetrate in a haze. Her arm around him tightens, and her hand digs into his shoulder where it lays. Around her, with her, in her, Mizu has Vergil. She can no longer tell whether the fantasy is of her in bed fantasizing or Vergil in bed with her, meeting her pleasure as he is now.
The pleasure overtakes her like the ocean, not one wave but an onslaught of them that surrounds her and keeps coming. Everything flashes blank, and Mizu shakes and shudders. Her fingers stop moving against her, and the tremors ebb away. They leave Mizu warm and boneless. Her head leans against Vergil, and she lets her eyes stay closed a while. She can smell him, feel him, and little else. Her arm hangs limp in her lap, and Mizu stays there, the echoes of pleasure racking through her. She's not sure how long she stays there, it feels both instantaneous and stretched toward forever. She's satisfied then to do...
Nothing. Simply be there in Vergil's arms.
In time, she nuzzles closer and says softly, "I always want you."
no subject
He returns her nuzzling affectionately.
"I am always yours to have," he says back like a sacred promise. Whether it is limited to just her mind or not, Vergil is hers as he promised before. She needn't want or long for him.
no subject
Vergil is in every part of Mizu's life in Folkmore. More important than what help he's occasionally given to her research are all the memories of reading together. Mizu speaks up when she finds something of interest or something Vergil might have insight into, as different as their worlds might be. He bought her the tools she uses to make weapons, and he's a part of her sword and with it every fight she uses it in. He brought Kai back to her life. Sometimes it's a small part, sometimes it's larger. Like a series of woodblock prints, he can always be found somewhere on each one.
That's why she can say, "I know."
She knows without him saying it, but she likes to hear him say it. Mizu sits up so she can see his face. She gestures toward the bedroom, where they undressed. "You're not getting that shirt back tonight. Or tomorrow. I have one that smells like me you can wear."
no subject
"Is that so?" Vergil brings one of his hands up to her face, caressing it. It's no secret he's admiring her eyes this close, as he is often wont to do. "I suppose since you don't intend to send me home without anything to wear at all, I'll indulge your whims this time."
As though Vergil is not always ready and primed to indulge her whims, and that he didn't already have a suspicion that she was going to lay claim to his shirt tonight so it was more or less a foregone conclusion that he would be wearing one of the shirts he left here last time.
no subject
Her eyes light up in amusement as Vergil mentions going home naked. "It would be better I send you off with nothing at all than only a shirt, would it not?" Mizu asks, "You need only transform until you reached the privacy of your room. Carrying or wearing a shirt like that would only draw more attention to you."
She pauses. "I suppose you could don the shirt before you transform. That would work, and it would make that shirt smell like you faster."
The greatest issue at stake, clearly.
"Why then, I could dress entirely in your clothes with only modest effort to account for your size." Mizu is tall, for a woman, but many men are taller than her still. Vergil among them. It's no serious idea, given he's nearly a head taller than her. His shirts drape her, and she has no experience with the sorts of clothes he wears that she'd easily take them in to wear them properly. Yet there's an appeal there beyond Vergil forced to transform to hide his human nakedness.
no subject
"So, I have merely planted the seeds for more devious schemes," Vergil says, his hand moving to hold Mizu's chin instead. Vergil gives her face a playful shake at her hypothetical plans for stealing all of his clothes in mock disapproval. "I know you to be plainly useless in protecting my remaining virtue, but that you would even consider sending me home naked or very nearly naked for your own gain..."
Vergil turns her face aside by the time he's done shaking it. But he only turns it aside for the sole purpose of leaning up and kissing her cheek as he wraps his arm back around her.
"I suppose Kai is not the only one being spoiled rotten around here if you're coming up with ideas like that and speaking of them so confidently," he teases, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth before settling back.
no subject
"Beyond our sparring, you have yet to deny me anything," Mizu says. She leans in and kisses the corner of Vergil's mouth. "Every time I have asked you for something, you have given it to me without reservation. You have granted my wishes before I knew I had them."
She cannot consider herself and Akemi, the princess the one who comes to mind at the idea of someone spoiled rotten. She expects people to do her bidding and serve her needs with little thought to what they might want or consider for themselves. Though Mizu must admit she's strong willed enough to see herself through where other spoiled sorts would crumble. No, that's not the image of spoiled Vergil teases and paints. It's far more awe inspiring. As little as Vergil may be inclined to return home transformed and naked but for the natural armor that protects him, Mizu firmly knows he would if she truly and deeply needed, no wanted, his clothes for her own that instant.
Kai herself is the way Vergil most spoiled Mizu. Not once did she consider that Kai could come to Folkmore. Only one day, near her birthday, the horse stood before her home alone. No one with her. No note. Nothing. Only an impossible reunion that saw Mizu squeal with delight as she's never done before. Every day Mizu feeds Kai and rides with her, the ground disappearing below Kai's blur of hooves. And Mizu? Mizu feels the happiness she felt then. Twofold for their separation.
Mizu says nothing, yet again, about Vergil giving her Kai. She knows.
"Where are your selfish whims that would take my virtue, had I any?" Mizu asks, "Or ought I spoil you more. Tell me what you want."
no subject
And then there is the question again. Except it's not posed as a question, as she had earlier. When she asked, Vergil considered the question carefully at its surface of what he might want and came up short. In of itself, that is not all that peculiar. Rarely is it that Vergil has an answer when anyone asks him what he wants. But when she asked then, Vergil pushed past reflex to sincerely consider it and really could not think of more that he might want in that moment. He came here tonight to ensure that Mizu was able to eat well as his chief priority. But the secondary was to have her time and attention, to be close to her and share in affection with her in the ways they only do when they're alone. He did not care what the shape of all that took, only that it was there. And it was. It still is.
...But still Vergil cannot help feeling that the answer ought to be different as well. He isn't certain if it's because the question is delivered differently or if it's a consequence of the frustration that was spilling out from her earlier when Mizu could not appreciably mark his skin that only makes itself known now. He just knows it feels wrong somehow to say there's nothing that he wants, nothing that she can give him.
"It is one thing to ask me to consider a hypothetical, but it is another to ask me to entertain an impossible one," he teases lightly on the matter of her virtue, allowing the playful ribbing to act as a buffer rather than silence. Comfortable as they both as with silence between them, Vergil thinks it would rest too heavily now that he does not want to chance it. "It is difficult for me to long for anything when the greatest of my wants is right here in my lap."
no subject
As much as she takes, Mizu wants to give him as much—anything he might want or even not know he wants. With great pleasure, she's discovered his hungry desire when she defeats a demon in the fighting pits and the heady truth that she can take him in all the varied tenderness and need as he takes her. Something Madam Kaji opted not to show her that night before they reached their agreement. Mizu's greed extends to wanting to give Vergil as much in return, and perhaps, just perhaps, Mizu feels comfortable enough to brush against the thought, to give him enough that it sustains him when she's gone.
Briefly considered, Mizu sets the thought aside.
"I hope you think of me and manifest that longing when I am gone, as I have just done imagining mornings when we're apart," Mizu says softly. She brushes his cheek and would not blame him if he were chastened by living with his family, a door so flimsy a thing between them. "Now when you wake, you can know I may have thought of you and done the same."