[The rain never quite bothered her before as it was rare for her to be outside during the monsoons or thunderstorms, in fact, she rather enjoyed it. The rains often meant new life and an increased availability of food, but now she finds a nagging feeling of irritation when splashes of water find her face or bare skin.
The guardian felines caught and held her attention from the moment she saw them at a distance up until she steps past their eerily stunning leader, who earns a smiling nod of gratitude. It's only when she's safely under cover of roof that she pushes back the hood of her long jacket, her tail finally lashing free of where she'd protectively tucked it.
Resisting the urge to shake herself dry, Sheva observes her surroundings, searching in particular for a place to store her outer jacket. And Ozy too, of course. She's certain he would have some way to know of her arrival, magic or otherwise, so she doesn't announce herself.]
[Sheva doesn't have to look particularly far to find a place for her jacket. An unseen force at the doorway gently takes it from her once she's removed it, placing it on a nearby hook for her. There's a slight adjustment to the jacket once it's hung up, smoothing it out somewhat to ensure little to no chance of wrinkles before the force dissipates once more.]
[It likely leaves her with a little more time to take in more of this small sampling of Ozymandias' mansion. It's obvious that Ozymandias has been progressively renovating the mansion the longer he's stayed, changing out the dark, dull colors of Aefenglom for something far brighter white and gold. Nature itself also seems to have a firm place here as even with Enkidu no longer residing within these walls, there are still plenty of plants and at least one mural depicting a land that the artist has likely never seen for themselves of the Nile's shore. She'll also no doubt notice the various scents lingering about. Ozymandias may live alone now, but he entertains constantly it seems.]
[He is not, however, the first to greet her. Instead, it is the Sphinx Awlad that trots out from one of the various rooms (perhaps a living room or parlor). It stops in the doorway for a moment to visually inspect her before making its way over for closer inspection. By the time it reaches her, Ozymandias speaks from the top of the stairs.]
For someone who claims patience is a virtue, you certainly didn't take your time.
[If there were still evidence that magic still freaks her out, it's her awkward reaction to what amounts to a ghost helping her undress. Even if idea of servants providing such tasks instead remains far less pleasant, it runs a chill over her spine, as does the lack of coat, revealing that she's dressed for the occasion in black leather and metallic gold fabric that drapes and accentuates her curves. Surprisingly, it also openly displays her changes, including the soft sandy fur that has started to curve along her shoulders to a trail connecting to her tail down the length of her spine. Along her hips and down her thighs are faint spots, much like a lion cub. They disappear into over the knee boots that definitely fit fashion as well as practicality by the look of the leather's comfortable wear to her.
Mostly, she's wearing it for herself, testing her own comfort with her changes. It's an outfit she easily would have worn with great confidence before the monster shifts, but now it feels almost wrong to show of her monster traits so normally.
Her attention is luckily busy taking in the place as well as the scents that curl around her. It doesn't surprise her that there are many, nor that some are faintly familiar. Despite the intriguing melange, she finds herself drawn to the painting, an ache of home curling in the pit of her stomach and tugging.
She's actually thankful when the sphinx interrupts her thoughts, bringing a smile to her even before Ozymandias' voice greets her. Humming softly, Sheva takes her time with offering the lovely creature some affection (if it allows it). It's not too long before her attention lifts to her host, a devious smirk and tone at hand.]
What's the point in testing your patience when I am not here to witness the fruits of my efforts?
[The sphinx cub takes a moment to sniff Sheva's hand before accepting any affection, but frankly the sniff is a mere formality. It's eager for pets and leans into them almost immediately.]
[As she pets the sphinx, Ozymandias descends the stairs.]
One cannot fault me for taking you at your word when you've played this game for so long.
[Were Ozymandias not already aware of Sheva's reservations about the changes to her body, he wouldn't likely be surprised at all to see her dressed as she is. There had been nothing in their early meetings that would suggest a sort of self-consciousness or shame about her body. She's beautiful and the sort of woman who plainly knows it, carrying with her a confidence that most would envy. But the changes to her body have left Sheva less certain with every change, and so, an outfit like this seems a bold choice.]
[Looking at her now though, even perhaps with some of her natural confidence robbed, Ozymandias doesn't see any trace of doubt taking its place. Uncertainty does not appear to make her shrink.]
But I've no objections to you growing tired of it and seeking out its end.
[The cub's eagerness for attention, the immediate acceptance, brings that bright joy that one always finds in the pure love of some animals, and she leans into it, finding herself making a pleased chuffing at the entire situation. It banishes some of the residual nerves, but she's still aware of the king's decent, of the reasons she's here. Honestly, some are less nerve wracking than others.]
Circumstances have changed. [She finally admits, providing the sphinx a few more strokes of affection before turning to more properly face Ozymandias. He has a point.] My person disappeared, and so did the boundaries I respected. [There's no hiding the sadness that surrounds that statement, nor the honesty of belief that with her spider, she felt it right to stay monogamous. Fat lot of good that did her, in the end.] My bond went missing too.
[It's been, rough. She very clearly is trying to put herself back together the best ways she knows how with the options she has in this place, by aggressively moving forward. No half measures, no dipping her toe in the water. And faking that lost confidence until she makes it a reality? That's been a survivalist tactic since she was a young girl, the difference between life and death more than once.
Her emotions regarding her lost partners don't disappear entirely, but they do take a backseat as she decides to close the distance between them. It's bold, but she moves to place her left hand on his chest, green eyes searching his as her hand smooths southward.]
I'm tired of it, and I seek ends, plural.
[The plan is to hook a few fingers over a waistband or belt to pull him closer.]
[In an attempt to capture her attention again, the sphinx rubs against Sheva's legs. When that seems to fail, it tries for Ozymandias instead. It flops down, laying on its side and looking up at the two of them, tail curling and uncurling on the floor, trying to will either of them to pay it some mind, but ugh!]
[The losses Sheva speaks of aren't unfamiliar to Ozymandias. One does not live for as long as he had without experiencing the loss of a lover at least once whether it is by circumstance or death. And as for the loss of a Bond... Well. It has not been all that long since Ozymandias was able to soothe that wound with the acquisition of another Bond. He still remembers that cold, hollow feeling that sat squarely in his chest in the months after Arthur's return to their world. Nothing eased it, not really. Anything before his Bond with Daenerys could only really serve as a momentary distraction, something that allowed the grief to slip into the background of his attention but never really removed it.]
[And here Sheva is now before him, contending with that same magic-induced pain that similar to him comes coupled with the loss of someone she knew, trusted, and respected better than anyone else here.]
[Ozymandias moves forward as she draws him closer.]
[He's not surprised to see hardly any trace of the loss in her eyes. Ozymandias knows the weight of those losses has to be just behind Sheva, but she keeps her gaze forward. She is here in this present moment, seeking out her distraction in a night of pleasures, and does not look back over her shoulder at any of it. He recognizes it as survival. Pure and simple survival.]
Is that what you wanted to discuss?
[Were these any other circumstances, conversation of any type would be liable to fade here at his discretion. Ozymandias would touch her in return. His lips would begin their conquest of her body, starting quite simply with her mouth. But rather than his decision, it needs to be hers to decide what it is she needs most right now. And so, it is only with a hand at her waist that he signals she is free to decide to talk now or wait. Or perhaps never to talk if that is what she ultimately decides.]
[Sheva's focus might be on the man in front of her, but that doesn't mean she's unaware of the sphinx's plight. He'll get more of her attention later, but for now, she flicks her tail in the cub's direction, playfully baiting it as well.
With him closer, she can feel the heat of his skin, and there's no helping the softest of purrs that rumbles in her throat. Her other hand finding the bare skin of his waist as she tugs him closer, against her if he's amiable. It's a gentle movement for now, but there's a hunger brewing, a need that he seems to understand.
Then he speaks, and she pauses, tail stilling along with her hands. Damn.
The plan had been to discuss bonding with Ozymandias once they'd enjoyed one another to happy exhaustion, when he's less likely to turn her down. In her experience, men were more agreeable after good sex, and while she may have a different appearance, that's a skill in which she still holds confidence.]
The full moon is approaching, and I can't... [She takes a deep breath, eyes searching his for an inkling of how he'll respond, worried about having to spend another full moon without a witch bond. It was bad with Chris and Bucky for support, but now Sheva knows that she's too unstable to make it through without going feral. Given everything, it'll probably be far worse.
When she continues, her voice is soft, rough with the slightest hint of emotion she's fighting. She's scared, and hates admitting it.] Will you bond with me?
[Not just temporarily, either. Though that should be fairly obvious without her stating that, or so she believes.]
[The movement of her tail is more than enough to get the sphinx cub to stop its fruitless attempts at gaining their direct attention. He sits up, wiggles, and... Pounces! Oh, but the tail is still now? Did he kill it that fast? The sphinx gives a few taps and pats in an attempt to get it moving again.]
[Searching Ozymandias' eyes for an answer is a bit of a fruitless exercise. The difficulty of trying to find an answer in someone who occupies a royal station is that they are well-versed in remaining guarded about their true thoughts under any circumstances. But he does give her question thought, and that much is seen in the way he looks at her. Sheva is not the sort of person he would typically consider bonding with beyond temporarily. His preference in Bonded seems to lean far more in the direction of those of royal birth, or at the very least of noble birth. But Sheva has never appeared to be either of those things.]
[And so, what she asks requires a bit of consideration.]
[Ozymandias is quiet a moment, his eyes searching hers.]
I have one expectation for my Bonded. I expect that they are my equal.
[He does not mean that they need to act with the same decorum as him. He also isn't referring to his divinity or his right to reign over others. To him, it is more important that his Bonded maintain their autonomy. To lend them support is one thing, but to completely prop them up, to enable weakness? Ozymandias has no tolerance for such things.]
[Sheva may not be of royal birth, but she is undoubtedly a warrior. So much does she seem to possess the noble warrior's spirit that this world has seen to it that she has taken on Sekhmet's form. As much as it might displease or upset Sheva to have her form changed, Ozymandias believes it to possess some divine intervention and that Sekhmet herself is quite plainly showing to him that Sheva is one to keep at his side.]
[And so, he is agreeable to Bonding with her. But only on the condition that she shall remain herself.]
[The sphinx is a mighty hunter, clearly. Her tail stays down for a few beats as she halts her conscious teasing, but eventually the tip of it flicks. It's a default setting. Have at it kitten friend.
Sheva doesn't know it's a fruitless effort to search for any hint of indication, though deep down it's not a surprise for the exact reasons no slip occurs. It was worth a shot, at least.
He's correct in the fact that she's not of anything resembling noble birth. She's the daughter of two factory workers from a remote West African village that she is the sole survivor. Ironically, it's this tragedy that put her on the path to something more, something greater than anything she would have aspired to had they survived. Still, none of that changes the standing of her birth.
His searching her, for what she can only imagine is her worth, stirs a mix of emotions. It shows he's considering it, but also that it had to be so deeply considered, that there's something lacking. It's within his rights, of course, but her ego will take that hit. Perhaps she should start preparing for that outcome.
This is why she wanted to fuck first. This and at least she'd get orgasms out of the deal. Plural.
When he speaks, her fingers stop their lazy movements and she cants her head ever so slightly. Her eyes narrow when he mentions that he requires an equal.
There she stands in front of a king, surrounded by opulence and and unnecessary decadence, having believed that he didn't hold that difference of upbringing and taste against her. He'd never given her any reason to believe there was such an imbalance in respect.]
Define equal.
[It's what she's finally able to muster, politely enough, but the rumble of flirting in her voice had diluted itself out of her tone. It's an opportunity to clarify himself, a terse benefit of the doubt that he's earned.]
[She is able to maintain her composure in making her request, but her offense at his question would be difficult to miss. At least, that seems to be the only reasonable explanation for how her fingers pause and the terser tone she offered him. Ozymandias is careful not to react to this shift.]
[It would be easy for him to react, of course. For her to take offense at the question, implying that he ought to not possess standards and that it is not his prerogative to determine if she should meet them, is insulting to the say the least. Ozymandias has certainly bristled and had a flare of anger and temper over less in the past. But as with all matters, he must be fair. Although her request to define what he means is to one degree or another insulting, she has undergone an extreme amount of loss in such a short period of time and she is ultimately make an effort to trust him.]
[Despite her advances to him, it seems reasonable that she is feeling a touch more insecure than usual. Or perhaps not insecure... Perhaps it is merely vulnerable. Whatever the label, she is ready for an attack. For her attempt to place trust to be a poor decision and withdraw from this situation altogether.]
It is exactly as I have said. I've no desire for either one of us to develop a dependency upon the other. Most frame these Bonds as such, particularly between Monster and Witch, and that without one, the other cannot be. I do not see it as such.
A Bond should be a willing combination of our strengths. While there may be moments in which we must call upon each other, neither of us shall be at the beck and call of the other. [Goodwill and trust are one thing and things he would anticipate to have in a Bond, but...] Blind loyalty and obedience will serve neither of us well. I would expect both of us to be honest with the other even in times of disagreement, and to support one another no further than we believe is appropriate.
[If there is a stupid decision being made, after all, they should be allowed to speak up and choose whether they lend support or not.]
If you are to Bond with me, then you Bond with me as yourself. I will reject anything less than that. That is what it means to me to be equals.
[And those fingers (now with retractable claws), have stilled in dangerous territory, and while that threat's not Sheva's intention, the proximity could easily serve as a reminder to choose one's words carefully. A woman scorned, and all that. Be thankful that Sheva generally has more sense than that Ozy.
And while she has issues with the changes she's undergone, both physical and otherwise, her physicality will always hold more confidence than her capabilities trusting another with the darkest parts of herself. A bond would clearly, as they've discussed, leave her mind bare for them to peruse or experience. She's not proud of how she survived, and if the king before her has already judged her by her birth, then she can only imagine how he'd think of her once a light is shone into the protected corners of her mind.
It's terrifying, especially since she wants nothing to do with developing romantic feelings for anyone again if she can help it. It's definitely not what she's searching for with his highness.
Once he starts explaining himself, Sheva finds her hackles lowering as she exhales a breath, one that she didn't know she'd been holding, in relief, a large, anxious weight removed from her shoulders. She'd hoped for as much despite her own fears and assumptions curling through her, fueled by the insecurities and hurt that still linger.]
Tame and subservient do not favor me, and I'm not seeking anything romantic.
[Not with her losses so fresh and raw, and maybe not for quite sometime even after those heal.]
I can accept equal, as well as friends with sex. [Which in her perspective includes all of his very well spoken expectations and caveats. Her eyebrow lifts, a slight drip of playful returning to her tone and quirk of her lip.] Provided that you're actually any good at that last part.
[So far it's just been bold talk. Are you able to do that Ozy?]
[As Sheva lets the breath she was holding go, he sees her posture shift again. She seems to do the opposite of what one would expect and rather than slouching into relaxation, Sheva seems to stand a little taller. But considering the predator now within her, it makes sense. A cat of any size only shrinks when it feels the need to defend itself. It seems she's come around to see that whatever threat she perceived from him was only a perception.]
[Her answer to him is enough. It is decided and they shall Bond.]
[Later.]
[With the matter resolved and Sheva's mood improving, the hand at her waist moves up over her hip and to her ass all the while pulling her to him and eliminating what space remained between them. He hooks a finger beneath her chin, tipping her lips towards his, but doesn't close that distance and they remain in near-kiss instead.]
If you really hold such doubts, you're free to leave and look for company elsewhere.
[Yes, later. She assumes the lack of further objects means that they've more or less agreed to terms on bonding, which means they can move onto to far more enjoyable endeavors.
This is territory that Sheva finds herself far more comfortable navigating, even in her changed body. Even as she feels his hand traversing her body, her eyes hold his gaze in a predatory challenge and she makes no move to acquiesce so easily to his touch. Despite her teasing, the lioness has patience and draws enjoyment in being hunted by another predator.
A low noise, akin to a purr, rumbles in her chest when he pulls her against him, her tail swishing behind her, further indicating her shift into a more playful mood. Her fingers having lost access to their intended target, she smooths the tips of her claws gently along his hips so that the could travel the outside edges of his spine one vertebra at a time.
He receives a sharp smirk as he lifts her closer, more assured of herself and his interest by the second. Without claiming him in a proper kiss, she lifts onto the balls of her feet just enough to drag the front of her against him, to angle her lips so that the nearly brushed against his as she spoke, low and languid.]
You've made such grand claims. [Vague and sweeping, but bold nonetheless.] It's your duty to live up to them.
[It’s obvious that even standing up on the balls of her feet that Sheva is not off-balance. Even as she presses herself further up against him with that movement, she is not leaning upon him for support to keep herself steady. Sheva rises to meet him, not to place herself at his mercy.]
[As her claws trail alongside his spine, Ozymandias does not take a kiss from her lips despite how close they are. Instead, his hands move to her hips, he creates the barest amount of distance between them as he pushes her against the wall. With her back firmly against the image of the Nile she had been admiring just moments ago, Ozymandias uses his foot against hers to scoot her legs a little further apart. One of his hands leaves her hip to trail fingers over the soft fur of her thigh.]
You take quickly to having a king in your service to begin dispensing duties to me already.
[It’s not admonishment though. It’s praise.]
[Rather than kissing her lips, Ozymandias moves lower to kiss at her throat. The fingers at her thigh begin their ascent along her inner thigh with increasing pressure as they climb. His fingers ghost over fabric, a light and teasing touch between her legs as he kisses and nips at her collar bone and the exposed parts of her chest.]
[There's about to be an admonishment when her lips go unassaulted and even worse, he creates space between them, but he suprises her with better as her back makes firm, assertive contact with what's likely a very pricey painting. He receives a pleased, rumbling purr at their new position, her hands taking advantage of the gap to slip between them and explore with finger pad and nails alike. So long she'd merely admired his terrible allergy to clothing from a safe and polite distance.
No longer will she toe that line or deny herself the pleasure when offered.
The sensation of someone other than her touching the soft fur along the heat of her curves hitches her breath in a rough inhale. It's been a while and he doesn't even hesitate. It radiates heat through her on multiple levels, and there's no protest as he angles her for better access.]
Being a subsurviant woman doesn't usually interest me.
[That behavior must be earned through trust and respect, no matter the relationship, no matter his title or birthright.]
I'm merely requesting a man to honor his word.
[A king's word is more important, though less likely for her to trust in general, but she trusts Ozy himself more than most despite her taunting. In the end, he puts a deeper note into her voice with the ascenion of his hand as she maintains composure enough to complete her counter.
Once spoken, she tilts her head to provide him more access and allows her breath to break with composure, haggard ever so slightly by the growing need to have him properly touch her, and more. Her left hand breaks away to smooth along his neck and into his hair, while the other settles in the area of his hip for safe keeping. When his fingers finally center between her thighs, Sheva shudders with soft gasp, hand gripping in his hair.
Often she would aggressively take the lead, but this is an intimate introduction. It feels appropriate for him to--for the moment--take the lead.]
[Ozymandias hums in amusement against her skin but he says nothing in return and grants her the last word. As much as she leaves the window open to him to provide yet another tantalizing promise, he thinks she will likely find it far more satisfying for him to simply respond with actions rather than words at this juncture.]
[Ozymandias will certainly find it far more satisfying if those are her last words and she finds herself unable to manage anymore. He does not concede to any implicit demands immediately. Whatever attempts she might make to press into his hand or fingers, he's certain to deny her for a few passes and merely traces her heat. But as Ozymandias' mouth begins to slowly descend along her stomach and he lowers himself down to one knee, he begins massaging circles likely more satisfying circles.]
[If he thinks she's going to forget his rudeness of him depriving her of further banter, even if his mouth has far better things to occupy itself doing, she's in for a bigger treat later when she turns the tables. Because oh, does she plan on getting him back for every tease and pleasure he administers.
There's something deeply satisfying in watching this king drop to a knee, and she can't help but savor the sight, lips parting as she breath continues to run rough. Her eyes stay keenly hungry, intense on him for several moments before she leans her head back against the painting as her eyes flutter closed so she can focus on the feel of him, hips moving instinctively against his hand to coax as much pleasure from the motions as possible.
It's tempting keep the hand in his hair from gripping and guiding more aggressively, so she instead shifts one leg to gently drape over his shoulder. Not that he needed any additional direction.]
[As Sheva brings her leg over his shoulder, his hand that was lingering on her hip moves to pull back the front of her dress and drape it over her leg out of his way. Ozymandias' mouth finds the end of her exposed skin on her stomach, but he lingers there for a moment. His fingers moving to press against the movement of Sheva's hips slide along before hooking two of them beneath fabric.]
[The motion of Ozymandias' fingers to bunch and eventually push aside fabric is quicker than his earlier movements, but the touch against Sheva is far less consistent. Ozymandias sinks lower as he does this, looking up at her as he presses a chaster kiss to the thigh resting on his shoulder. It seems to him that in barely even touching her, Sheva's managed to find what she was looking for in coming here tonight. All the weight that was resting on her shoulders when she arrived, when talking about the possibility of bonding with him... All that seems lifted. Forgotten for the moment as she focuses on and seeks out his touch.]
[He's curious to see what this woman shall be like as she heals and these losses no longer hold her back.]
[With Sheva's dress and underwear out of the way, Ozymandias ceases with some of his teasing as he finally brings his mouth between her legs, his tongue making a trail that allows him a sample of her taste but conveniently avoids her clit.]
[While she's quite eager to feel his mouth against her properly, among other things, the great majority of Sheva deeply appreciates that Ozymandia's isn't bending to her pressures. Ultimately, he's taking a more conscious, pointed route to their first sexual interaction, and she notices with both enjoyment and frustration. She won't admit it out loud, especially since it's so easy to lean into just the physical aspect of his attentions to forget the recent past, but it needed to be more than a simple act of hoping back into bed.
Not that she had any intention of anything romantic with the man bent at the knee before her, but it does seem that Ozy is wiser to what she actually requires. Or, perhaps his mood just happens to align with what provides balance to a woman physically altered and recently abandoned by her most intimate partners here, emotionally and otherwise. Even when she tries to hide the lingering ramifications, they're still there, seeping through the cracks she's still attempting to piece together and mend all by herself.
Perhaps a little bit of help isn't so bad? And sex, well that's something she knows damn well she can do quite well.
There's a soft noise, a mix between a huff and perhaps the softest of whines when he delays what she expects is the enevitable, both impatient and appreciative of each and every touch of lips and fingers. A perhaps more telling sign is the near constant movement of her tail, quirking and lashing along side her noises and encouraging hip movements.
It's when she feels the heat of his breath that she blooms with anticipation, strong leg pulling him closer with plans to keep him there for some time. Finally feeling the heat of his mouth against her has her shudder and moan, but it's punctuated with an amused laugh at the end of it, voice rough when she realizes what he's doing. Or, more specifically, what he's not doing.
Well played sir. She'd absolutely do the same.]
Tease. [By her tone, it's a compliment as well as an admonishment.]
[He hums contemplatively as though the very concept of him as a tease is something he's never heard before. But the way he glances at her belies how pleased he is by the comment. Not that Ozymandias exactly needs to hear any words from her. Sheva's hips press herself into him and the tightening of her leg against his shoulder, and it becomes abundantly clear that she fully intends to collect on these new promises of his.]
[But while he may be a tease, Ozymandias is not one to be neglectful to what is ultimately being asked of him. He does as she likely believed he was about to do the first time, pulsing his tongue lightly against her clit a few times before sucking on and toying with her inner lips instead. But it's clear he still has no intention of throwing Sheva headlong toward orgasm. His fingers are now preoccupying themselves with running along her thigh instead in slow circles lest they are forgotten.]
[What a rude liar. She just makes a mental note to turn the tables on him later and make him pay for all this damn pleasure, rude, heated gazes included. Yeah, that sounds about right. Viva la vengeance.
There's a low groan when he finally hits that spot, her body jolting a bit against him in reactionary spasm. Her gaze becomes slightly hooded and there's a low, baseline purr that seems to rumble when he discovers a particularly good angle. And thanks to the balance of her tail, the wall, and the king's shoulder, Sheva's able to angle her thighs further apart to offer him more room to work his magic.
Wait, are there fun sexual endeavors and tricks with magic he can employ at some point in the future?]
[Hey that redlight district wouldn't exist if things like that weren't possible, Sheva. Just sayin'.]
[Ozymandias remains attentive to Sheva's reactions so he doesn't miss the best angle, the amount of pressure that causes her to try to create more friction that he seems set against giving her just yet. Every tremble, every sound guides Ozymandias to give and take, to draw more out of her until he can get her singularly focused on finding her release. He won't let her have it until then either. Even if he has to edge her repeatedly, Ozymandias won't concede to her demands until she's consumed by them.]
[He licks his lips as he takes his mouth away from her for a moment, letting her be in that liminal space between sensations long enough to feel the absence of his touch. Ozymandias moves his fingers up her thigh to run along her outer lips as his gaze remains on her, watching every little shift in her expression.]
How many do you want inside you? One...? Two...?
[As Ozymandias begins counting off fingers, he slows the tempo and emphasizes the count with a pointed stroke to her clit with one more finger than the last at just the right angle.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Don't keep me waiting.
[When she arrives at Ozymandias' mansion, she'll notice the sphinxes outside immediately. They are fairly hard to miss with two large males taking shelter beneath the boughs of one of the trees on the property. A female lies on the porch itself, making it likely clear who of the three calls the shots. All three will stir at the sound of the gate opening, but none adopt a more aggressive posture. The female rises to her feet, moving aside and sits, drawing her wings and tail close to her body to give Sheva access to the door.]
no subject
See you soon.
[The rain never quite bothered her before as it was rare for her to be outside during the monsoons or thunderstorms, in fact, she rather enjoyed it. The rains often meant new life and an increased availability of food, but now she finds a nagging feeling of irritation when splashes of water find her face or bare skin.
The guardian felines caught and held her attention from the moment she saw them at a distance up until she steps past their eerily stunning leader, who earns a smiling nod of gratitude. It's only when she's safely under cover of roof that she pushes back the hood of her long jacket, her tail finally lashing free of where she'd protectively tucked it.
Resisting the urge to shake herself dry, Sheva observes her surroundings, searching in particular for a place to store her outer jacket. And Ozy too, of course. She's certain he would have some way to know of her arrival, magic or otherwise, so she doesn't announce herself.]
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[It likely leaves her with a little more time to take in more of this small sampling of Ozymandias' mansion. It's obvious that Ozymandias has been progressively renovating the mansion the longer he's stayed, changing out the dark, dull colors of Aefenglom for something far brighter white and gold. Nature itself also seems to have a firm place here as even with Enkidu no longer residing within these walls, there are still plenty of plants and at least one mural depicting a land that the artist has likely never seen for themselves of the Nile's shore. She'll also no doubt notice the various scents lingering about. Ozymandias may live alone now, but he entertains constantly it seems.]
[He is not, however, the first to greet her. Instead, it is the Sphinx Awlad that trots out from one of the various rooms (perhaps a living room or parlor). It stops in the doorway for a moment to visually inspect her before making its way over for closer inspection. By the time it reaches her, Ozymandias speaks from the top of the stairs.]
For someone who claims patience is a virtue, you certainly didn't take your time.
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Mostly, she's wearing it for herself, testing her own comfort with her changes. It's an outfit she easily would have worn with great confidence before the monster shifts, but now it feels almost wrong to show of her monster traits so normally.
Her attention is luckily busy taking in the place as well as the scents that curl around her. It doesn't surprise her that there are many, nor that some are faintly familiar. Despite the intriguing melange, she finds herself drawn to the painting, an ache of home curling in the pit of her stomach and tugging.
She's actually thankful when the sphinx interrupts her thoughts, bringing a smile to her even before Ozymandias' voice greets her. Humming softly, Sheva takes her time with offering the lovely creature some affection (if it allows it). It's not too long before her attention lifts to her host, a devious smirk and tone at hand.]
What's the point in testing your patience when I am not here to witness the fruits of my efforts?
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[As she pets the sphinx, Ozymandias descends the stairs.]
One cannot fault me for taking you at your word when you've played this game for so long.
[Were Ozymandias not already aware of Sheva's reservations about the changes to her body, he wouldn't likely be surprised at all to see her dressed as she is. There had been nothing in their early meetings that would suggest a sort of self-consciousness or shame about her body. She's beautiful and the sort of woman who plainly knows it, carrying with her a confidence that most would envy. But the changes to her body have left Sheva less certain with every change, and so, an outfit like this seems a bold choice.]
[Looking at her now though, even perhaps with some of her natural confidence robbed, Ozymandias doesn't see any trace of doubt taking its place. Uncertainty does not appear to make her shrink.]
But I've no objections to you growing tired of it and seeking out its end.
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Circumstances have changed. [She finally admits, providing the sphinx a few more strokes of affection before turning to more properly face Ozymandias. He has a point.] My person disappeared, and so did the boundaries I respected. [There's no hiding the sadness that surrounds that statement, nor the honesty of belief that with her spider, she felt it right to stay monogamous. Fat lot of good that did her, in the end.] My bond went missing too.
[It's been, rough. She very clearly is trying to put herself back together the best ways she knows how with the options she has in this place, by aggressively moving forward. No half measures, no dipping her toe in the water. And faking that lost confidence until she makes it a reality? That's been a survivalist tactic since she was a young girl, the difference between life and death more than once.
Her emotions regarding her lost partners don't disappear entirely, but they do take a backseat as she decides to close the distance between them. It's bold, but she moves to place her left hand on his chest, green eyes searching his as her hand smooths southward.]
I'm tired of it, and I seek ends, plural.
[The plan is to hook a few fingers over a waistband or belt to pull him closer.]
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[The losses Sheva speaks of aren't unfamiliar to Ozymandias. One does not live for as long as he had without experiencing the loss of a lover at least once whether it is by circumstance or death. And as for the loss of a Bond... Well. It has not been all that long since Ozymandias was able to soothe that wound with the acquisition of another Bond. He still remembers that cold, hollow feeling that sat squarely in his chest in the months after Arthur's return to their world. Nothing eased it, not really. Anything before his Bond with Daenerys could only really serve as a momentary distraction, something that allowed the grief to slip into the background of his attention but never really removed it.]
[And here Sheva is now before him, contending with that same magic-induced pain that similar to him comes coupled with the loss of someone she knew, trusted, and respected better than anyone else here.]
[Ozymandias moves forward as she draws him closer.]
[He's not surprised to see hardly any trace of the loss in her eyes. Ozymandias knows the weight of those losses has to be just behind Sheva, but she keeps her gaze forward. She is here in this present moment, seeking out her distraction in a night of pleasures, and does not look back over her shoulder at any of it. He recognizes it as survival. Pure and simple survival.]
Is that what you wanted to discuss?
[Were these any other circumstances, conversation of any type would be liable to fade here at his discretion. Ozymandias would touch her in return. His lips would begin their conquest of her body, starting quite simply with her mouth. But rather than his decision, it needs to be hers to decide what it is she needs most right now. And so, it is only with a hand at her waist that he signals she is free to decide to talk now or wait. Or perhaps never to talk if that is what she ultimately decides.]
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With him closer, she can feel the heat of his skin, and there's no helping the softest of purrs that rumbles in her throat. Her other hand finding the bare skin of his waist as she tugs him closer, against her if he's amiable. It's a gentle movement for now, but there's a hunger brewing, a need that he seems to understand.
Then he speaks, and she pauses, tail stilling along with her hands. Damn.
The plan had been to discuss bonding with Ozymandias once they'd enjoyed one another to happy exhaustion, when he's less likely to turn her down. In her experience, men were more agreeable after good sex, and while she may have a different appearance, that's a skill in which she still holds confidence.]
The full moon is approaching, and I can't... [She takes a deep breath, eyes searching his for an inkling of how he'll respond, worried about having to spend another full moon without a witch bond. It was bad with Chris and Bucky for support, but now Sheva knows that she's too unstable to make it through without going feral. Given everything, it'll probably be far worse.
When she continues, her voice is soft, rough with the slightest hint of emotion she's fighting. She's scared, and hates admitting it.] Will you bond with me?
[Not just temporarily, either. Though that should be fairly obvious without her stating that, or so she believes.]
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[Searching Ozymandias' eyes for an answer is a bit of a fruitless exercise. The difficulty of trying to find an answer in someone who occupies a royal station is that they are well-versed in remaining guarded about their true thoughts under any circumstances. But he does give her question thought, and that much is seen in the way he looks at her. Sheva is not the sort of person he would typically consider bonding with beyond temporarily. His preference in Bonded seems to lean far more in the direction of those of royal birth, or at the very least of noble birth. But Sheva has never appeared to be either of those things.]
[And so, what she asks requires a bit of consideration.]
[Ozymandias is quiet a moment, his eyes searching hers.]
I have one expectation for my Bonded. I expect that they are my equal.
[He does not mean that they need to act with the same decorum as him. He also isn't referring to his divinity or his right to reign over others. To him, it is more important that his Bonded maintain their autonomy. To lend them support is one thing, but to completely prop them up, to enable weakness? Ozymandias has no tolerance for such things.]
[Sheva may not be of royal birth, but she is undoubtedly a warrior. So much does she seem to possess the noble warrior's spirit that this world has seen to it that she has taken on Sekhmet's form. As much as it might displease or upset Sheva to have her form changed, Ozymandias believes it to possess some divine intervention and that Sekhmet herself is quite plainly showing to him that Sheva is one to keep at his side.]
[And so, he is agreeable to Bonding with her. But only on the condition that she shall remain herself.]
Are you able to do that?
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Sheva doesn't know it's a fruitless effort to search for any hint of indication, though deep down it's not a surprise for the exact reasons no slip occurs. It was worth a shot, at least.
He's correct in the fact that she's not of anything resembling noble birth. She's the daughter of two factory workers from a remote West African village that she is the sole survivor. Ironically, it's this tragedy that put her on the path to something more, something greater than anything she would have aspired to had they survived. Still, none of that changes the standing of her birth.
His searching her, for what she can only imagine is her worth, stirs a mix of emotions. It shows he's considering it, but also that it had to be so deeply considered, that there's something lacking. It's within his rights, of course, but her ego will take that hit. Perhaps she should start preparing for that outcome.
This is why she wanted to fuck first. This and at least she'd get orgasms out of the deal. Plural.
When he speaks, her fingers stop their lazy movements and she cants her head ever so slightly. Her eyes narrow when he mentions that he requires an equal.
There she stands in front of a king, surrounded by opulence and and unnecessary decadence, having believed that he didn't hold that difference of upbringing and taste against her. He'd never given her any reason to believe there was such an imbalance in respect.]
Define equal.
[It's what she's finally able to muster, politely enough, but the rumble of flirting in her voice had diluted itself out of her tone. It's an opportunity to clarify himself, a terse benefit of the doubt that he's earned.]
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[It would be easy for him to react, of course. For her to take offense at the question, implying that he ought to not possess standards and that it is not his prerogative to determine if she should meet them, is insulting to the say the least. Ozymandias has certainly bristled and had a flare of anger and temper over less in the past. But as with all matters, he must be fair. Although her request to define what he means is to one degree or another insulting, she has undergone an extreme amount of loss in such a short period of time and she is ultimately make an effort to trust him.]
[Despite her advances to him, it seems reasonable that she is feeling a touch more insecure than usual. Or perhaps not insecure... Perhaps it is merely vulnerable. Whatever the label, she is ready for an attack. For her attempt to place trust to be a poor decision and withdraw from this situation altogether.]
It is exactly as I have said. I've no desire for either one of us to develop a dependency upon the other. Most frame these Bonds as such, particularly between Monster and Witch, and that without one, the other cannot be. I do not see it as such.
A Bond should be a willing combination of our strengths. While there may be moments in which we must call upon each other, neither of us shall be at the beck and call of the other. [Goodwill and trust are one thing and things he would anticipate to have in a Bond, but...] Blind loyalty and obedience will serve neither of us well. I would expect both of us to be honest with the other even in times of disagreement, and to support one another no further than we believe is appropriate.
[If there is a stupid decision being made, after all, they should be allowed to speak up and choose whether they lend support or not.]
If you are to Bond with me, then you Bond with me as yourself. I will reject anything less than that. That is what it means to me to be equals.
So, I ask you again: are you able to do that?
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And while she has issues with the changes she's undergone, both physical and otherwise, her physicality will always hold more confidence than her capabilities trusting another with the darkest parts of herself. A bond would clearly, as they've discussed, leave her mind bare for them to peruse or experience. She's not proud of how she survived, and if the king before her has already judged her by her birth, then she can only imagine how he'd think of her once a light is shone into the protected corners of her mind.
It's terrifying, especially since she wants nothing to do with developing romantic feelings for anyone again if she can help it. It's definitely not what she's searching for with his highness.
Once he starts explaining himself, Sheva finds her hackles lowering as she exhales a breath, one that she didn't know she'd been holding, in relief, a large, anxious weight removed from her shoulders. She'd hoped for as much despite her own fears and assumptions curling through her, fueled by the insecurities and hurt that still linger.]
Tame and subservient do not favor me, and I'm not seeking anything romantic.
[Not with her losses so fresh and raw, and maybe not for quite sometime even after those heal.]
I can accept equal, as well as friends with sex. [Which in her perspective includes all of his very well spoken expectations and caveats. Her eyebrow lifts, a slight drip of playful returning to her tone and quirk of her lip.] Provided that you're actually any good at that last part.
[So far it's just been bold talk. Are you able to do that Ozy?]
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[Her answer to him is enough. It is decided and they shall Bond.]
[Later.]
[With the matter resolved and Sheva's mood improving, the hand at her waist moves up over her hip and to her ass all the while pulling her to him and eliminating what space remained between them. He hooks a finger beneath her chin, tipping her lips towards his, but doesn't close that distance and they remain in near-kiss instead.]
If you really hold such doubts, you're free to leave and look for company elsewhere.
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This is territory that Sheva finds herself far more comfortable navigating, even in her changed body. Even as she feels his hand traversing her body, her eyes hold his gaze in a predatory challenge and she makes no move to acquiesce so easily to his touch. Despite her teasing, the lioness has patience and draws enjoyment in being hunted by another predator.
A low noise, akin to a purr, rumbles in her chest when he pulls her against him, her tail swishing behind her, further indicating her shift into a more playful mood. Her fingers having lost access to their intended target, she smooths the tips of her claws gently along his hips so that the could travel the outside edges of his spine one vertebra at a time.
He receives a sharp smirk as he lifts her closer, more assured of herself and his interest by the second. Without claiming him in a proper kiss, she lifts onto the balls of her feet just enough to drag the front of her against him, to angle her lips so that the nearly brushed against his as she spoke, low and languid.]
You've made such grand claims. [Vague and sweeping, but bold nonetheless.] It's your duty to live up to them.
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[As her claws trail alongside his spine, Ozymandias does not take a kiss from her lips despite how close they are. Instead, his hands move to her hips, he creates the barest amount of distance between them as he pushes her against the wall. With her back firmly against the image of the Nile she had been admiring just moments ago, Ozymandias uses his foot against hers to scoot her legs a little further apart. One of his hands leaves her hip to trail fingers over the soft fur of her thigh.]
You take quickly to having a king in your service to begin dispensing duties to me already.
[It’s not admonishment though. It’s praise.]
[Rather than kissing her lips, Ozymandias moves lower to kiss at her throat. The fingers at her thigh begin their ascent along her inner thigh with increasing pressure as they climb. His fingers ghost over fabric, a light and teasing touch between her legs as he kisses and nips at her collar bone and the exposed parts of her chest.]
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No longer will she toe that line or deny herself the pleasure when offered.
The sensation of someone other than her touching the soft fur along the heat of her curves hitches her breath in a rough inhale. It's been a while and he doesn't even hesitate. It radiates heat through her on multiple levels, and there's no protest as he angles her for better access.]
Being a subsurviant woman doesn't usually interest me.
[That behavior must be earned through trust and respect, no matter the relationship, no matter his title or birthright.]
I'm merely requesting a man to honor his word.
[A king's word is more important, though less likely for her to trust in general, but she trusts Ozy himself more than most despite her taunting. In the end, he puts a deeper note into her voice with the ascenion of his hand as she maintains composure enough to complete her counter.
Once spoken, she tilts her head to provide him more access and allows her breath to break with composure, haggard ever so slightly by the growing need to have him properly touch her, and more. Her left hand breaks away to smooth along his neck and into his hair, while the other settles in the area of his hip for safe keeping. When his fingers finally center between her thighs, Sheva shudders with soft gasp, hand gripping in his hair.
Often she would aggressively take the lead, but this is an intimate introduction. It feels appropriate for him to--for the moment--take the lead.]
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[Ozymandias will certainly find it far more satisfying if those are her last words and she finds herself unable to manage anymore. He does not concede to any implicit demands immediately. Whatever attempts she might make to press into his hand or fingers, he's certain to deny her for a few passes and merely traces her heat. But as Ozymandias' mouth begins to slowly descend along her stomach and he lowers himself down to one knee, he begins massaging circles likely more satisfying circles.]
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There's something deeply satisfying in watching this king drop to a knee, and she can't help but savor the sight, lips parting as she breath continues to run rough. Her eyes stay keenly hungry, intense on him for several moments before she leans her head back against the painting as her eyes flutter closed so she can focus on the feel of him, hips moving instinctively against his hand to coax as much pleasure from the motions as possible.
It's tempting keep the hand in his hair from gripping and guiding more aggressively, so she instead shifts one leg to gently drape over his shoulder. Not that he needed any additional direction.]
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[The motion of Ozymandias' fingers to bunch and eventually push aside fabric is quicker than his earlier movements, but the touch against Sheva is far less consistent. Ozymandias sinks lower as he does this, looking up at her as he presses a chaster kiss to the thigh resting on his shoulder. It seems to him that in barely even touching her, Sheva's managed to find what she was looking for in coming here tonight. All the weight that was resting on her shoulders when she arrived, when talking about the possibility of bonding with him... All that seems lifted. Forgotten for the moment as she focuses on and seeks out his touch.]
[He's curious to see what this woman shall be like as she heals and these losses no longer hold her back.]
[With Sheva's dress and underwear out of the way, Ozymandias ceases with some of his teasing as he finally brings his mouth between her legs, his tongue making a trail that allows him a sample of her taste but conveniently avoids her clit.]
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Not that she had any intention of anything romantic with the man bent at the knee before her, but it does seem that Ozy is wiser to what she actually requires. Or, perhaps his mood just happens to align with what provides balance to a woman physically altered and recently abandoned by her most intimate partners here, emotionally and otherwise. Even when she tries to hide the lingering ramifications, they're still there, seeping through the cracks she's still attempting to piece together and mend all by herself.
Perhaps a little bit of help isn't so bad? And sex, well that's something she knows damn well she can do quite well.
There's a soft noise, a mix between a huff and perhaps the softest of whines when he delays what she expects is the enevitable, both impatient and appreciative of each and every touch of lips and fingers. A perhaps more telling sign is the near constant movement of her tail, quirking and lashing along side her noises and encouraging hip movements.
It's when she feels the heat of his breath that she blooms with anticipation, strong leg pulling him closer with plans to keep him there for some time. Finally feeling the heat of his mouth against her has her shudder and moan, but it's punctuated with an amused laugh at the end of it, voice rough when she realizes what he's doing. Or, more specifically, what he's not doing.
Well played sir. She'd absolutely do the same.]
Tease. [By her tone, it's a compliment as well as an admonishment.]
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[But while he may be a tease, Ozymandias is not one to be neglectful to what is ultimately being asked of him. He does as she likely believed he was about to do the first time, pulsing his tongue lightly against her clit a few times before sucking on and toying with her inner lips instead. But it's clear he still has no intention of throwing Sheva headlong toward orgasm. His fingers are now preoccupying themselves with running along her thigh instead in slow circles lest they are forgotten.]
she stick her leggy out
There's a low groan when he finally hits that spot, her body jolting a bit against him in reactionary spasm. Her gaze becomes slightly hooded and there's a low, baseline purr that seems to rumble when he discovers a particularly good angle. And thanks to the balance of her tail, the wall, and the king's shoulder, Sheva's able to angle her thighs further apart to offer him more room to work his magic.
Wait, are there fun sexual endeavors and tricks with magic he can employ at some point in the future?]
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[Ozymandias remains attentive to Sheva's reactions so he doesn't miss the best angle, the amount of pressure that causes her to try to create more friction that he seems set against giving her just yet. Every tremble, every sound guides Ozymandias to give and take, to draw more out of her until he can get her singularly focused on finding her release. He won't let her have it until then either. Even if he has to edge her repeatedly, Ozymandias won't concede to her demands until she's consumed by them.]
[He licks his lips as he takes his mouth away from her for a moment, letting her be in that liminal space between sensations long enough to feel the absence of his touch. Ozymandias moves his fingers up her thigh to run along her outer lips as his gaze remains on her, watching every little shift in her expression.]
How many do you want inside you? One...? Two...?
[As Ozymandias begins counting off fingers, he slows the tempo and emphasizes the count with a pointed stroke to her clit with one more finger than the last at just the right angle.]
Three...?