allbedestroyed | Private tour for asorceress

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Private tour for asorceress

There's no better sign that a date went well than organising another before it's even finished. Generally that's the theory, anyway. Given that this could just be Yennefer's way of getting onto the island to see dinosaurs with a private tour, maybe she's just able to put up with the head warden. He doubts it though. He's seen what Yennefer can do. If she wanted to wander around the island she wouldn't need him to do it. Besides, he really had enjoyed their time together, and it seemed like Yennefer had as well.

This seems like a natural progression. Not only did she get to see him in his natural environment (work), but there's the thrill of infiltration along with this, too. Luckily the park isn't fully set up yet, and Muldoon knows the island like the back of his hand. He's spent plenty of time looking at their security blind spots, because he has to cover them manually, so she has no better guide around the island than him. Between his knowledge and her spells, they should manage to have a thoroughly successful trip.

Just like last time, Muldoon is waiting by a jeep. He'd given her instructions on where to meet him. It was a nice, secluded spot not too far from the docks. It helps with his backup story in case Yennefer's presence is noticed. This time he's wearing his uniform, full khaki and not dissimilar from what he wore on their last date. The most notable differences are the pistol on his hip and the ID badge on his pocket. At least nobody could mistake him for someone else.

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The last of his own clothing soon follows hers, the heat of his erection no longer muffled by fabric, and only further encouraged by the touch of her skin. A hand trails down her body to between her legs. Calloused fingers rub her own heat, tempered only by the caution of exploring new lands. As desperately as he wants Yennefer, he's making sure every part of her invites him in.

All of this only proves to be more excruciating. Teeth pull at her lower lip even as his hips roll, seeking out that contact, that motion that both of them want.

She's slick where his fingers brush against her, the gentle movements making her hips squirm beneath him, seeking out more of his touch, more of him in general.

With the sounds she makes and the way her thighs begin to tremble, she guides him as to how she likes to be touched - slow, soft caresses against that sensitive bundle of nerves. She can't help but want to touch him as well; her hand trails down his abdomen to wrap around his length, stroking him lightly as she moans into their kiss.

Eventually though, she can't bear a moment more of him not being inside her, so with one last biting kiss, she places a hand on his shoulder to urge him over onto his back, hoping he won't mind the shift in position. With her hands braced on his chest, she sinks down onto him slowly, drawing it out until their bodies fully connect; her eyes slipping shut with a sharp gasp of pleasure. When she starts to move her hips, it's a languid, rolling pace; a direct contrast to the sharp dig of her nails into his skin.

The moment she touches him it becomes impossible not to pant against her skin. Teeth sink into her shoulder as he palms her breast. All of which makes it just as well she gives in when she does, because otherwise he would have.

Though he doesn't resist the change of position, it does disorient him for a split second. Confusion which doesn't last when such wonderful pleasure follows. It takes all of his willpower not to roll his hips while they join, but it's worth it. The moment she starts to move she draws a moan out of him. His hands fall to her hips, encouraging the motion.

The sight of her on top of him is exceptionally hot. Too much, really. He knows he'd easily and happily break like this, but that would be too little for something he's waited so long for. In one smooth motion, he rolls them back, hooking one of her legs over his elbow as he goes deep and hard.

With his hands on her hips, she quickens her pace just a bit; the heat of passion overtaking any ideas she had about attempting to go slow and tease them both with a bit of delayed gratification. Yennefer tends to oscillate between two extremes when it comes to sex - teasing and slow, or fervent and relentless. The latter of which makes keeping her quiet basically an impossible feat.

And while she'd have gladly ridden him like that until they both couldn't take it anymore, when he switches their positions she makes a low sound of approval at his initiative. A sound that becomes a louder, more wanton sounding moan when he drives into her that deep; her back arching. Her nails sink into his skin and drag down his shoulder blades, she utters his name in a tone that's both urging and praising for the pleasure she feels.

She wraps her free leg around him, pulling their bodies closer and lifting her head enough to capture his lips in a kiss that conveys just how desperately she wants him. And, impatient as ever, her hips writhe against his; needing more - movement, friction, everything.

There is nothing about what she does at any point which asks he slows down. A rarity in partners, he's found. Given who she is, and how vocal she is, Muldoon has no worries that if she wants something to change, she'll let him know. Until then he is all for relentless, frenzied sex.

The way she rakes her nails across his skin and moves against him, it's as if this isn't enough. As though she still hungers for more. He cannot abide that. He refuses to leave her unsatisfied.

With a few more firm thrusts, he interrupts the rhythm to slide back, pulling her with him to the edge of the bed until he can lift her up. There's a small table in the corner which he has to pull away from the wall, but it's light and so is she, so one hand supports her while the other tugs the furniture aside. Now with more room he can lay her down, putting her at a much better height for him.

Though she might not be able to kiss him this way, she will definitely get movement, and friction. Her legs thrown over his shoulders, her hips pulled to the edge of the table, he can go deep and hard and fast. A burning hot cock relentlessly hammering into her in pure animalistic passion.

Relentless and frenzied are much more her speed, particularly in this instance; where she's been wondering what he'd be like in an intimate setting ever since their first date. The anticipation building ever since that first kiss. Wondering what it would take to tip him over into territory where he's thinking only of passion; disregarding the restraint he maintains so strictly in every other situation.

It's a heady thrill seeing him like this, and being the recipient of such unchecked ardor. Wrapping her legs around him once more when he lifts her, she takes that brief opportunity when he's carrying her to the table to sink her teeth into his neck in a heated kiss. Enough to leave a mark, but the collar of his shirt might cover it. She rather likes the idea of leaving her mark on him anyway, so she's not terribly concerned in the moment.

With her legs thrown over his shoulders, she can barely breathe for a moment for the sharp pleasure it brings; both her neck and back arching upward with a cry of passion. When he starts to drive into her with such relentless force, she grips the edges of the table; eyes squeezed shut and face contorted in pleasure. "Fuck,", she cries out again; followed by moans increasing in volume - needy and insistent as she feels an ache begin to build deep within her core. It won't take much more to push her over the edge. "Don't stop," she manages to get out; her voice a desperate command.

Stopping is the farthest thought from his mind, anyway. Especially after that bite. If she's to leave him with something to remember her by, he'd better make damn sure she'll remember him too.

While she moans, he growls and pants, the aching of muscles drowned out by every other wonderful sensation flooding his body. The shuddering clatter of the table, the slapping of flesh against flesh, combined with their own voices makes for a song which only increases the passion and pleasure which it speaks to.

There is a struggle in all of this, however. The sounds along with the sight of her, arched in rapture, and the feel of her, are all far too wonderful. It's difficult not to careen off the edge himself, though he's determined not to. Not until she's ready. Though as he thrusts into her has his fingers digging into her thighs and his jaw tightening with the effort.

She's had her share of lovers over the centuries, and she's impressed by his stamina and vigor - driving into her hard and fast enough that all thoughts vanish from her mind; there's only sensation. The digging of his fingers into her thighs, hard enough to leave bruises she'll keep rather than magically heal; the scent of his skin, the panting of his breath and sounds of his own enjoyment. She aches to let go fully, but doesn't yet want to stop feeling him like this.

He's hard and hot inside her and with each thrust she clenches around his cock even tighter, feeling a wave of pleasure building rapidly. Her fingers grip at the parts of him she can reach; nails digging into his skin as she continues to moan and gasp her pleasure and encouragement; urging him on. It's a wonder they haven't broken the table.

As the heat within her builds, so does her magic as she feels her entire body tensing; getting closer to that edge. Her body is slick with sweat, head thrown back when that wave of pleasure finally breaks and she comes with a loud cry of ecstasy - her body shuddering with the impact of it. As a result of such a powerful spike of overwhelming pleasure, her orgasm causes a release of her magic - a ripple of telekinetic force that rattles the walls and knocks over anything atop the surfaces of the room. She couldn't have held that back even if she'd wanted to, and she didn't want to.

The tightness around him makes everything blindingly pleasurable. There is a notion which passes through his thoughts, to say her name, to speak to her and warn her that he's close. All words which stay unuttered except by every trembling of his voice, and the fierceness of his thrusting.

It's difficult to tell who comes first. He was already at the tipping point when she clenches around him, sending him over the edge with every part of her body and voice. Together they shudder as he gives a few last, deep thrusts before holding her hips firmly as he pours into her. He's left sweating and panting, moving one hand to lean on the table as he lets the ebbing waves of ecstasy crash over him.

The surge of blissful euphoria made him mostly oblivious to the initial awareness of that magical pulse. It's only as his head clears of the lustful haze that he retroactively realises the sensation he'd felt, the sounds he'd heard and, as he glances around at rattled drawers and lamps on their sides, the slight disarray he can see.

Magic isn't something he fully understands and, now no longer driven by animalistic urges, he's inclined to err on the side of caution. So once he's caught his breath, he looks down at her laid out across the small table. "Are you alright?"

She clutches his arm when he leans it against the table, her breath still coming in uneven pants and gasps as she feels her entire body practically humming with the aftermath of such pleasure. Feeling him spill himself within her as he let go at nearly the same instant as her was nothing short of exquisite and she's still riding on the high of that, and the release of her magic as well. If he's able to sense it, the air in the room is faintly electric as a result, nothing that would damage anything; but not unlike how the environment feels just before a storm, or a surge of rain.

The bliss she feels makes her eyes half lidded, her gaze contented though the spark of her passion still remains as well. The low, husky chuckle in response to his question is followed by a glance around the room to assess the damage. "I hope I didn't break anything valuable," she remarks, then rests her back against the table with a long sigh; stretching her body a bit as she feels her muscles relaxed and loose.

She reaches a hand up to cup the side of his face with a smile. "I'm alright, yes. That... happens sometimes," she gestures toward the room. "Particularly when I am driven to such heights of pleasure." Her smile turns a bit wicked as she gazes up at him, very much intending that as a compliment.

It is certainly taken as one. How could it not be when she smiles at him like that. It's enough to make him grin in turn, cheek pressing against her palm. His brow bounces as he replies with a definitive, "Good."

Taking a moment to gather himself, he pulls out with a small grunt and shiver at the sensation. Not that he particularly wanted to, but he can't keep her on a table forever. Those precious few moments were enough for his muscles to recover so that he can scoop her up rather than ask her (hopefully) now weak thighs to do any work. He brings her back to the bed, laying her down before laying down beside her.

The pre-storm sensation lingering in the air suits their intense time together. It feels particularly appropriate to Muldoon, who had been going through a somewhat extended dry spell before this. What a way to break it. What a woman to break it with. Even with his mind failing to organise itself in the wake of such bliss, it's hard not to simply look at her. So he does, taking in the sight of her, tired and satisfied.

Part of him wants to say that he enjoyed himself, but that seems redundant. Especially with the way he looks over her now. Instead, after a little consideration, he decides to do what he does best: Show, not tell. So he kisses her. Slowly, this time, and deeply, to be clear about just how much he enjoyed that.

There's a small intake of breath when he pulls away, almost a sound of protest as well for the disconnect of their bodies for that brief moment. But then he's pulling her into his arms, which is fortunate because her legs feel too unsteady for the brief journey and her thighs still tremble slightly.

She sighs once more as she's placed upon the bed, the softness a welcome sensation beneath her body. Initially she lays there with eyes closed, peaceful and blissed out; but she can sense him looking at her, and so she turns to lay on her side, one palm resting against his chest as a warm smile curves her lips to find her senses were accurate.

She can guess by the way he looks at her what he's thinking, and as if in answer to that nonverbal expression her smile only widens. When he leans in to kiss her, she makes a pleased sound, her hand lifting to rest just beneath his jaw; enjoying the scrape of his stubble beneath her palm. Her kiss conveys how much she's enjoyed herself as well; as she takes her time tasting his mouth, brushing her lips lightly against his before she pulls back enough to look at him fondly. "Who would have thought so much passion was beneath that stern exterior," she teases, clearly pleased by this knowledge. "Though, if I'm being honest I did suspect as much, after our first kiss. Perhaps even before that."

Her attention is then drawn to the prominent mark she's left on his neck, smirking as she brushes her fingers across it. "I hope you didn't mind my getting a bit rough with you." Considering the state of his back and shoulders, raked by her nails; she hoped not.

His brow lifts as his eyes shift to half-follow her brushing touch. That's going to be interesting later. Maybe he can hide it by doing up an extra button on his shirt...

"Not at all," he replies, returning his attention to her beautiful face. "I'm built for rough."

Which is his very muted way of saying he prefers it. Not that she particularly needs telling. Everything she did was practically reading his mind on how to spur him on. Although he'd known he would enjoy himself, he hadn't expected their intimacy to be just that good. The reality of sex is that it can often be clunky, especially the first time with someone. There was no fear of that with Yennefer.

He spends another long moment looking at her, simply enjoying the way her hair falls across her skin, half sticking to her but still in long, soft waves. There's a part of him which, despite his thoroughly contented tiredness, which could just continue kissing her, enjoying her presence with him in this space. But he's no longer as unrestrained as he was a few moments ago. Politeness takes precedence.

"Would you like a drink?"

"As am I," she responds with a grin, gesturing toward the marks he'd left on her legs where he'd gripped her tightly. She feels a pleasurable ache within as well, from how roughly he'd driven himself inside her.

That he's built for rough, that he enjoys it is another significant mark of compatibility between the two of them. Not everyone was suited for the kind of sharp edged passion she embodied and expresses; not to mention her magic - something that is an integral part of her, and at times has it's own chaotic expression, as evidenced by the still slightly electric feel to the air around them.

She's content to lay here with him in the afterglow of their shared pleasure, her fingertips trailing along the line of his jaw as she studies his features appreciatively; her eyes drifting toward his lips just before he asks her if she'd like a drink.

"In a moment," she responds, leaning in to press her lips against his in another slow, languid kiss. "First I wanted to do that," she grins as she pulls back. "A drink would be lovely. Water," she clarifies; considering their vigorous activities, she's rather parched but hadn't really noticed until he'd mentioned it.

Seeing the marks he'd left on her legs surprises him. In the heat of the moment he hadn't even noticed how hard he was gripping her. He opens his mouth to apologise, but given she's already expressed her appreciation of roughness, he closes his mouth again and limits himself to an apologetic look instead.

That kiss just draws him right back in again, leaning into her touch with a pleased little hum. It seems cruel then for her to pull away after giving such a lovely kiss. Perhaps she just enjoys the slightly dazed look it puts on his face. Or him struggling to get his composure again.

Needless to say it takes him a moment, and a big sigh, to get up. He pulls on his shorts, just in case someone comes knocking, and heads to the kitchen with an, "I'll be right back."

He leaves Yennefer in his now somewhat messy room for a few short minutes. It really is a bit of a state now. The wardrobe and drawers are all ajar showing his ridiculously ~~dull~~ practical choice in clothes. There are no photos here, only lamps and books that have been knocked over. As well as the out-of-place table, of course.

When he returns it's with water for her and orange juice for himself. It's only then that the mess hits him. He puts his own glass down and hands Yennefer hers before he starts putting everything roughly back in order again.

"You do make quite the impact," he mumbles.

She does rather enjoy the slightly dazed look on his face whenever their kiss ends, and the struggle of composure that follows. Which is both endearing and a little amusing considering how little restraint he'd shown just moments ago. It would seem that both the thrill of hunting and the thrill of passionate, frenzied sex are the two areas of life where he does away with composure altogether. Which bodes rather well for future hunting trips they'd take together.

There's an indulgent chuckle given at his sigh, and once he's in the kitchen she takes a moment to look around the room. Her thoughts are less on how sparse things are, or how his clothing seems in complete opposition to her own typically lavish attire; but rather on the absolute mess she's made of his bedroom.

She thanks him when he hands her the glass and takes a long drink before setting it down on the nightstand. "At least the walls didn't fracture," she remarks, lifting her hand and assisting him in the process of putting his room back together - telekinetically righting a few lamps and closing the drawers that had come open. "But if they had, I'd find a way to make it up to you," she finishes, her tone teasing as well as flirtatious. If ever her magic were to release in an even stronger manner, she thinks they'd probably be better off being outdoors. At least then there's no risk of doing irreparable damage to his belongings.

Once his room is set right, she stretches back down onto the bed, feeling no desire to put clothes back on for the moment. She reaches a hand toward him, beckoning him to join her. "I'm not quite done with you yet," she comments with a grin, wondering if he's the type to enjoy cuddling; she'll soon find out.

A lamp rights itself just as he reaches out to do so himself and it startles him a little. Magic as a concept is one thing, but seeing it included in such mundanities as tidying is still more than a little bizarre. The comment about being repaid, in that flirty voice of hers, does earn her an arched eyebrow as he pauses to give her a look which quietly says, 'Oh really?'.

With her help it doesn't take long to fix everything up again, and he finds himself slightly surprised to see her beckoning for him. Part of him had wondered if he wasn't just a pleasant distraction for her. Not due to who she is, but because it's become habit. A way to lower expectations after a string of poor dating experiences. Being two adults who know what they want is perfectly acceptable, but generally those encounters rarely involve much in the way of after care.

Muldoon won't say no to her, however. He doesn't want to. He enjoys her company and will keep it for as long as he's allowed to. Although Yennefer will find that while he's not opposed to cuddling, he's not very good at it. Robert Muldoon has not had much practice at snuggling.

So he comes back into bed slightly more clothed than he left, and lays down next to her. At least he knows enough to lift an arm to allow her close so that he can then wrap it around her.

To his look of 'oh really?' her grin turns to a smirk, a non verbal affirmation of the various ways in which she'd happily 'repay' him.

Yennefer has indulged in her share of pleasant distractions over the years, those of which seldom held her interest longer than a night. But that's not what this is, with him. The longer term relationships of substance she's had have been few in number; especially so considering her years. Much of this was due to her lifestyle - often on the move, often in dangerous situations. It required a particular sort of partner to suit that. The other part was her being quite slow to trust and open up. Though Robert had a way about him that made it possible for her to begin to show those softer sides of herself.

Like now, when she reaches for him; seeking the contact of skin against skin, to be close and simply enjoy his company, the warmth of his body against hers - an act arguably more intimate than actual sex in some cases. When he lifts his arm she slides closer, draping her arm across his chest and her thigh over his.

Pressing a soft kiss against the underside of his jaw, she rests her head down and a deep sigh leaves her as she gets comfortable. And, she can't help but notice he seems a little stiff, less languid than she is in this state of cuddling. A few moments pass in silence before a quiet chuckle escapes her lips. "I get the distinct impression this is not something you do too often," she remarks in a teasing, yet affectionate tone.

Here he was trying to force himself to relax when she starts chuckling. He's not sure what at until she speaks and it puts a strange little frown on his brow.

In many areas Muldoon is extremely confident. He's sure of himself, his worth, and his skills. That's part of why he can come across as so harsh sometimes. However, sharing the privacy of his own home, his own room, even himself in the (mostly) bare flesh, is a little awkward. It's neither the rigid formality of his disciplined career, nor the wild, desire-driven blindness of his sexual intimacy. Rather it's something in between. Something he so rarely shares that it's easier to keep those walls up with silence.

Teasing, however, warrants a teasing response in return.

"Bringing beautiful women on a tour around my secret workplace and then having, quite literally, earth shattering sex?" He pauses and looks at her to punctuate how exceptionally rare that combination is, before continuing with a dry, "Not often, no."

She can't help but laugh at his remark, particularly when coupled with that dry tone of his. She knows he's not particularly in his element at the moment, and she's understanding of that. But of course, being who she is, Yennefer tends to speak what is on her mind rather than thinking it in silence. A trait that can be beneficial in certain occasions while others, not so much. In this case however, she thinks it's better said than left unsaid.

"Now don't get bristly," she chastises in that same affectionately teasing tone, lifting her head from his chest enough to look at him. "I was referring to the part where after the earth shattering sex, two people sometimes enjoy laying together and relaxing in each other's presence." Her tone is somewhat sultry, not necessarily intentionally; it just typically sounds that way after such an extraordinarily pleasurable experience. She leans forward then to press a soft kiss against his lips.

"Am I to believe you don't find my presence very relaxing?" she asks with a raise of her brow, a glimmer of mirth in her eyes.

Speaking her mind is part of what makes her work so well with Muldoon. The warden doesn't work well when he's left to guess and pick up on hints. It also has the added benefit of calling him out on things he's not very good at discussing himself. Like his uncertainty around cuddling. Plus, she's good about punctuating her observations with nice little kisses which keep him calm.

"More stimulating than relaxing," he says, voice low as he watches her looking up at him with those enchanting eyes of her. To clarify he adds, "Which I prefer."

"I had a feeling." She grins and lifts a hand to thread through his hair, fingertips lightly brushing against his scalp; she's quiet for a moment as she studies him with a neutral, but warm expression.

While Yennefer is perceptive and quite literally a mind reader, she isn't currently reading his mind. And as such, doesn't know for certain if he's simply tolerating the closeness of snuggling while he might prefer otherwise. She doesn't think that's the case, as he doesn't strike her as the type to go along with anything he didn't fully and enthusiastically want (certain frustrations of the workplace excluded). But then again this is new territory for the both of them.

Which prompts her to suggest in a gentle tone - "We don't have to do this, you know. I don't wish to make you feel uncomfortable."

Even Muldoon knows that it's ridiculous to be uncomfortable with his arms wrapped around a beautiful woman in his bed. Something which explains the insistence in his voice when he replies in turn. "I'm not uncomfortable, I just..."

Realising he should probably be careful about how he finishes that sentence, he pauses to think about it for a second. Then he looks at her to finish it. "I'm just not used to this, like you said."

Because agreeing with someone very, very rarely upsets them. Pleased with himself and his decision making in this department, he does actually relax just a little.

It even gets a more honest mumble of, "I'm not really used to sitting still without waiting for something."

Which is true. At least Yennefer can rest safe in the knowledge that no matter where he'd be sitting, or laying, he'd still have that tension of expecting something to happen at any moment.

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Private tour for asorceress

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