Amelia Eva Steinbeck 📚 Teacher 📚 Witch 📚 Available for pop culture consultation regarding the arts, literature, and other foreign mediums of expression.
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NAME: Amelia Eva Steinbeck BIRTHDAY: February 28th FAV CAKE FLAVOR: Mixed berries, whipped cream, and lemon curd
WHAT THEY WANT MOST FOR THEIR BIRTHDAY: For her AP Lit. class to pass their test w/ a 3 or higher.
[For all intents and purposes, Amelia was sure that was a moment that would put him off from her. She was immature and bull-headed over a silly game and overreacted to the results. And at that time she was confused and angry about feeling like a fool.]
I don't think I properly apologized for that. I was... Not thinking clearly.
[She rests her head on the pillow again.]
So, I'm sorry. I know the water is under the bridge but it needs to be said.
Apology unnecessary, but accepted. I was being a bit of a sore—
[He cuts himself off before he can say 'loser,' because he still maintains it was a draw, but he chuckles and reaches over to lightly brush a bit of her hair back from her face as she settles back in.]
Well. I think we can both agree it was all very silly, hm? I think we both got a bit carried away, but it would seem pride is something we have in common.
[They're both prideful but it is of varying shades. Gale had accolades, the favor of a goddess, and pure raw talent. Amelia? Well, it was all that she had left and even that was questionable.
Her eyes are half-lidded as if she's about to fall asleep. Instead, she keeps her gaze on Gale and her fingers reach up to trace the outline of his beard and then...]
... You have a lot of scars, don't you Gale?
[They're faded and faint but up close, she can see every jagged line and how they fade into the creases of his face whenever he smiles. Not to mention the dark veins that come from the orb's markings that travel from his chest, up to his neck.
Amelia wonders if she'll have enough time to memorize them all.]
[For a moment, he feels himself bordering on philosophical; they all have their scars, do they not? Old wounds that make them who they are, reminders of the steps taken to lead them to the present— but the soft touch of her careful fingers reminds him that she most certainly means the physical, and fortunately for both of them, he stays himself.]
I've my fair share. Some old enough that I confess to having forgotten about them, used to them as I am.
[Not those left behind by the orb. He imagines not even the most potent of spells could ever convince him to forget those, or exactly how he got them.]
One doesn't become an archwizard without taking a few tumbles, so to speak. What do you think? Ruggedly handsome?
[Teasing, deflecting rather than fishing for compliments, but his smile is as warm as ever, his fingers catching against the sleeve of her sweater and gently twisting the fabric between them.]
[A light compliment, but a compliment nonetheless. She still has her glasses on during this whole date so she finally pulls them off and sets them to the side.]
And now I get to see them up close as much as I like.
[He can't help but give her a boyish tilt of his head as he shifts closer to her, daring to catch her hand with his own once she's set her glasses aside, twining their fingers together.]
I had no idea you were so interested in investigating. By all means, get as close as you like.
[Dangerous, a voice at the back of his head reminds him, and he's also keenly aware of the fact that there's something else he's momentarily forgotten, but he's so pleased with the opportunity to be here with her, to see her smile bloom here underneath the stars, his initial plans for this dinner have become a distant thought.]
A standing invitation, by the by.
[He's not the type to be shy about showing affection, or accepting such displays regardless of where he is.]
[It might be the prolonged closeness combined with the weight of the blanket but... Gale's 'subtle' invitation causes a shiver to travel down her neck and the temperature a tad bit unbearable.
She wiggles out of her green cardigan and pushes it to the side before lightly remarking back though her tone is low.]
Is that where we're going with this?
[Amelia closes the distance again and this time the length of her body presses up against his. She's fully clothed, but without the bulk of her knitted cardigan, the contact feels closer than before.]
[He feels a shiver of his own as she pulls herself against him, his arms easily encircling her as she draws close, and the warm line of her body against his is as welcome in the cool air of the evening as it is tempting fate. He huffs a breath before laughing again, opting to tease her even as that low tone of voice reaches deep within him and seizes something he's half-forgotten.]
I was merely referring to more opportunities just like this.
[He demonstrates by dropping a chaste kiss against the bridge of her nose, though having her pulled against him with even one less layer of clothing than before is certainly doing a great deal to test that patience and will of his.]
[Oh, that is a rather underhanded move on her part; she nudges his knees apart, a dangerous play in itself, and though her lips barely touch his, that light graze causes him to take in a small, sharp breath, barely perceptible, though he doesn't expect her to miss it. She doesn't miss much.
That she can manage to sound so casual with the warm line of her body pressed against his is, frankly, a marvel— he knows that there's going to be a husky edge to his voice when he speaks again, that tease of hers stirring up a fluttering in his abdomen.]
I think that you, [he begins slowly, deliberately, his own voice low as his fingers curl into the fabric of her shirt at the small of her back,] want to see what happens if you do.
[It would be a terribly risky assumption to make otherwise; he may be a patient man, but he's hardly a priest, nor is he made of stone. He shifts to angle himself forward, less passive than his posture has been so far, and leans in to press a light kiss against her jawline before he murmurs against it, just below her ear.]
[Of course, she doesn't miss the sharpness of his breath. She's too close and too observant. And that also means she can't ignore the huskiness of his voice, how it resonates in her, and how his touch begins to leave invisible searing marks.
Amelia cannot ignore the question's underlying meaning; as Gale kisses her jawline and whispers into her ear, a color floods her cheeks, the tips of her ears, and down to her neck. But somehow she manages to maintain their breathy rapport.]
It wouldn't be the first time... Nn.
[There's no mistaking that enticing sound as much as she tries to suppress it. If he pulls back to look, her green eyes filled with that lovely haze that emerged back at the ball.]
... Gale? It's still cold, you know.
[Amelia slowly starts to sit up so that whatever happens next they aren't lying down.]
[That sound is more than enough to make his pulse quicken further, make desire twist low in his belly. That may have been an accident, but much like the night of their first kiss, it's clear she knows precisely what she's doing.
He props himself up with one hand as she sits up, the blanket still draped over them as best it can be despite their shifting, and he pulls back just enough to let her move as she wishes— enough that he can see that lovely haze in her eyes, mirrored in his own by an intense heat, soulful brown eyes heavy but still with that mischievous sparkle of his.]
Would it be so bad?
[He echoes her with a low chuckle, biting slightly at his lower lip, unable to look away from the way her face and ears have flushed.
He could dismiss the cold in an instant, if he wished, but this is far more interesting.]
I would hardly complain. How could I?
[He shifts so that he, too, is seated, his hand only leaving her lower back for but a moment as he does so, returning with fingers spread and teasing at the hem of her shirt as he leans in as if for another kiss, wondering in passing if she'll still taste of wine. He stops, instead, just short of her lips, letting his forehead come to rest against hers, hardly more than a hair's breadth between them.]
I am many, many things, dear heart, but I am not coy. You need but say the word, and I am yours.
[It's all a little much. There's nothing in his eyes that makes her think he doesn't want her and the allowance he's giving Amelia is a sweet temptation that makes her ache. What is it like to be so generous with intimacy toward a person who's been without for so long? It's like pouring into a half-empty glass and making it overflow.
Fundamentally, Amelia may be more impatient between the two of them.
As he teases the hem of her shirt and their foreheads touch, she doesn't take time to answer his question. One hand reaches to rest on the back of Gale's neck, threading through his hair, and she goes in for a kiss. It isn't heated at first but as she parts her lips there's a keen wanting behind it that she couldn't possibly describe to him in words.]
[The kiss itself is answer enough, tender and heartfelt before becoming something much more, the gentle tug of of her fingers threading through his hair causing him to let out a soft noise of satisfaction against her lips, parting his own to invite her in. The hand at her back slides to her waist, his arm cinching around her middle so that he can grab her hip with the other and tug her forward, pulling her into his lap so that she's nearly flush against his chest, just as she'd teased by curling up against him beneath the blanket.
He traces the curve of her lower lip with his tongue before truly allowing himself to taste her, his efforts soft and searching as he keeps the heat of his own kiss barely restrained, but there's a hunger and wanting apparent in the rapid pace of his heartbeat, the rigid curl of his fingers against her hips as he forces himself to move slowly, not to allow his hands to wander until he's been explicitly invited. He might not be a perfect gentleman, but the situation is delicate, and he intends to be cautious with her— as though she might break if he moves too quickly or with too much force, despite the fact that he is a man long-starved for what she represents on every level.
His breath is sharp and heavy between kisses, though the space between them is short as he chases her lips for another, the press of his own lips searing as he tangles his fingers in her hair, cupping the side of her face as he tries to show her without words how very much she is wanted, pouring every ounce of himself into it as though his very breath would serve him better than speeches in this instance.]
[His touch, his lips, his warmth— she drinks, and drinks, and somehow Gale gives her more. The deeper kiss elicits a moan into his mouth as she sits on his lap and throws her arms around his shoulders. Amelia meets him at his pace; a slow, but tantalizing exploration of lips and tongue. His hands on her hips make her thoughts run wild with other ways he could be holding her—
And then they move to her face and her hair and the weight of their breath mingling starts to make Amelia feel dizzy; drunk even. There's an internal struggle between staying as is and drinking him in and letting him drink from her or responding to the hunger behind his caresses and letting them devour—
It's hot. Maddening. Her kisses are becoming desperate. This is good, Gale is good, wonderful, more than she could have ever dreamed of, but this is incomplete and the compulsion grows stronger. She has to breathe, but when Amelia temporarily withdraws, she's magicked away her long-sleeved turtleneck. All she's wearing underneath is a white lace camisole rendering her arms, and shoulders bare, including the curve and dip of her chest.]
Gale— [Amelia's hand finds his fingers and intertwines them with her own. Her eyes are completely ablaze with an invitation to partake further if he dares.]
[His breath catches in his throat as she pulls back to reveal that she's no longer quite as dressed as she had been only moments before; the hand that had been on her hip is now entangled with hers, and he can't help but make a low sound of approval as he takes her in, his face flushed with warmth and wanting, his lips kiss-swollen.
She is quite literally breathtaking.
He feels his heart beat against the inside of his ribs, fit to break his chest, and the thoughts he'd previously had about meticulously planning and ensuring their first time together would be perfect— they're quite distant now. Nothing is set in stone, but it's painfully clear they both want one another, the countless thoughts he's had of what it might be like to run his deft fingers across that fair skin of hers and explore her with his lips now reality.
He kisses her again then, hard and unrestrained, desperate in its own right before he begins to work his way along her jaw, pressing a series of kisses against it before he dips his head to nuzzle against her neck, his beard lightly scraping against her skin before his lips do, murmuring against its curve.]
I am yours.
[He repeats himself and it sounds like a promise rather than an invitation this time, and then he absolutely dares as she'd silently offered him with that intense, heated gaze of hers, his hand now slipping beneath her camisole completely and skimming its way up her back. Her skin feels hot to the touch, his fingers spread as he pulls her closer and raises his head to claim her mouth again, releasing her hand to gently cup one of her breasts with her camisole still between them, his kiss demanding despite his sweet and mannerly nature.]
Edited (his beard was replaced by bears which made this a very different scene) 2023-12-24 09:24 (UTC)
[Electrifying. Burning. There are so many other words to describe this world of sensation they've closed themselves in as he kisses her without restraint and she does the same in turn. Amelia inhales sharply as his mouth moves along her jaw and then against her neck. Her body feels like a single nerve that Gale fires up with ease as he answers her unspoken desires.
I am yours.
Hers. Someone for her own. His heart was given freely, offered into her own hands. Who could ignore such an alluring promise? A fool that's who and Amelia is not one in this sublime moment.
Deft hands brush under her camisole and as he caresses one of her breasts, she moans into his mouth as he claims her lips once again. Their sweet play is escalating into something more lustful, yet honest. Within a second where she can regain one breath, she sits up, moves her hands to Gale's shoulders, and with abrupt strength, pushes and pins him down so that he's on his back and she hovers above him instead, with one leg between his.
Her eyes, intense and full of passionate purpose, never leave his as one hand moves to loosen the collar of his tunic.]
[Though the shift is abrupt, he's more than happy to bend beneath her, moaning into their kiss in turn, his hand sliding down the length of her back now to catch against her hip, gliding over it to rest against the curve of her rear as she leans over him, his heart lodging itself in his throat now at the promise of her weight bearing down on him— but first, she seeks to make quick work of his tunic, and oh, he could make that so much easier with a snap of his fingers, but that blazing, emerald fire in her eyes as her fingers work is too beautiful for him to wish to interrupt. He knows that if she moves her knee but half an inch forward, it will be painfully obvious just how badly he wants her, heated desire pooling low in his stomach as his trousers have come to feel uncomfortably tight.
His breath is ragged as he leans upwards to be able to kiss her neck in earnest now, letting a soft groan escape him against her fair skin as he kisses his way along its curve and towards her collarbone, shrugging one shoulder to pull his arm free from his tunic once she has his collar loosened. The moment he's free, he skims his fingers over the flat of her stomach, sliding upwards beneath her camisole to stop against her ribs, only allowing his thumb to lightly trace the curve of her breast to tease her.
His ideals and thoughts of perfection be damned; he cannot imagine anything more perfect than this.]
[It doesn't take much for her knee to move forward and— Oh. Knowing that Gale's desire for her is even more apparent, spurns Amelia to loosen his tunic until he pulls his arm free and his chest is revealed. She breathes and sighs airily through the kisses up her neck, and his palm gliding across her waist, gripping his shoulders desperately. For her, it's less about perfection and more about how lost she is in the present with him. Amelia is inflamed and incited and needs to keep the fire going. Already she can imagine him beneath her, wild, and reckless with entangled movement.
If they're already this ravenous from just tasting and touching, a thrill travels up her spine when she thinks about how much deeper and riveting it can become.
Before she can set her lips on his neck and paint it with her kisses, he teases the curve of her chest and it makes her swallow with anticipation. Releasing his shoulders, she sits up straighter and prepares to remove her top because it is too hot—]
Edited (Apologies there was repetition ) 2023-12-26 00:28 (UTC)
[... Until a sharp cold breeze travels across and through both of them, a chill that nips unpleasantly on their bare skin. Amelia shivers, but not with pleasure and it shakes her out of... Oh boy. Her arms wrap around herself and—]
ACHOO! [Well, she covered her nose and mouth with the crook of her elbow, but just as quickly and suddenly she rolls off of Gale, teeth chattering and throwing the blanket across their bodies.]
[He'd just had to make the weather here seasonally appropriate, hadn't it? Inwardly, he curses the part of him that had been so very focused on accuracy, but he doesn't take time to dwell on it— even as that sharp chill runs through him, his focus is on Amelia, rolling part of the way with her as she quickly pulls away and ending up on his side. The blanket is certainly doing its job, but given they're both now partially dressed, a little extra help would be welcome— wide-eyed and still startled by the cold and the abrupt shift in the mood, he snakes one hand out from under the blanket to wave it and conjure a nearby brazier, followed by another flick that makes flames come to life within it.
He tentatively lays a hand on Amelia's shoulder, apologetic.]
Are you alright? I apologize, when I conjured this place, I didn't consider that we might—
[He cuts himself off, his face still deeply flushed and only partly from embarrassment, then huffs softly before letting out a nervous laugh. Well, he supposes this was proof that he hadn't asked her here with any ulterior motives, at least.]
[Talk about whiplash. Amelia's heart rate begins to settle as the blanket covers her shoulders and as her thoughts calm down, she admittedly feels silly for getting so worked up. Berna had told her to partake in pleasure where she could as a witch ("For we shall live for so very, very long and we need the bright memories to light up the dark.") but Amelia's not certain if being impulsive in this instance is a necessarily good choice.
... It was a little enjoyable though even if the cold cut it short.
The conjured brazier is welcome and Amelia moves closer to Gale to snuggle against his chest for extra warmth. His hand on her shoulder causes her to still and think. Looking up at his face, she can see Gale all flushed and hear the nervousness in his laughter. It affects her and she finds herself chuckling too and she reaches up to touch his cheek with her palm reassuringly.]
No worries, Gale. I'm sorry I... started to get us both worked up and... Well.
[She huffs out another laugh. Considering how much thought Gale put into their whole date, his apology for the overly detailed environment speaks to how much he wanted this all to be perfect, regardless of whether they went all the way or not. It's ended up as the latter but Amelia doesn't particularly feel... Bad? Maybe a little.
And it hits her that this isn't life-ruining, an omen of things to come, or even all that shameful. It's comedic and in the grand scheme of things, she was okay with it all because it's with Gale.
[Really, it's quite funny in retrospect, even if he finds himself feeling more than a touch flustered. He can't help but be a bit embarrassed regarding just how worked up he'd allowed himself to get, though logic dictates that it would have been almost impossible not to under these circumstances. He smiles and turns his face into the palm of her hand, just enough to leave a chaste kiss of reassurance at the pad of her thumb.]
I'm just fine. There's no need to apologize.
[The fact that she still wants to be here with him, that she's curled up against his half-bared chest beneath this blanket rather than hurriedly dressing herself and being on her way means that this doesn't have to be as catastrophic a thing as might have once thought, though there is a faint pang of worry in his chest. Had he said too much, set forth expectations he hadn't meant to? She doesn't seem to be upset, which does offer him some comfort in that regard.]
Just an unfortunate fumble. I just— [He pauses to clear his throat.] May need a few minutes. That was rather... invigorating, shall we say.
[He'll get over it easily enough, and that soft smile of his persists he presses another kiss against her forehead.]
It's probably for the best. I don't know that our first time making love ought to be on the ground, conjured or otherwise.
Edited (he smiled twice how dare he) 2023-12-26 07:24 (UTC)
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no subject
Were you aiming for a kiss back then? Or was that unintentional?
no subject
Unintentional, I'm afraid— swept up in the spirit of competition as I was— but I can't say I was unhappy about it.
[Which is to say that if she was wondering if he liked her then, the answer is yes.]
no subject
I don't think I properly apologized for that. I was... Not thinking clearly.
[She rests her head on the pillow again.]
So, I'm sorry. I know the water is under the bridge but it needs to be said.
no subject
[He cuts himself off before he can say 'loser,' because he still maintains it was a draw, but he chuckles and reaches over to lightly brush a bit of her hair back from her face as she settles back in.]
Well. I think we can both agree it was all very silly, hm? I think we both got a bit carried away, but it would seem pride is something we have in common.
no subject
Her eyes are half-lidded as if she's about to fall asleep. Instead, she keeps her gaze on Gale and her fingers reach up to trace the outline of his beard and then...]
... You have a lot of scars, don't you Gale?
[They're faded and faint but up close, she can see every jagged line and how they fade into the creases of his face whenever he smiles. Not to mention the dark veins that come from the orb's markings that travel from his chest, up to his neck.
Amelia wonders if she'll have enough time to memorize them all.]
no subject
I've my fair share. Some old enough that I confess to having forgotten about them, used to them as I am.
[Not those left behind by the orb. He imagines not even the most potent of spells could ever convince him to forget those, or exactly how he got them.]
One doesn't become an archwizard without taking a few tumbles, so to speak. What do you think? Ruggedly handsome?
[Teasing, deflecting rather than fishing for compliments, but his smile is as warm as ever, his fingers catching against the sleeve of her sweater and gently twisting the fabric between them.]
no subject
[A light compliment, but a compliment nonetheless. She still has her glasses on during this whole date so she finally pulls them off and sets them to the side.]
And now I get to see them up close as much as I like.
no subject
I had no idea you were so interested in investigating. By all means, get as close as you like.
[Dangerous, a voice at the back of his head reminds him, and he's also keenly aware of the fact that there's something else he's momentarily forgotten, but he's so pleased with the opportunity to be here with her, to see her smile bloom here underneath the stars, his initial plans for this dinner have become a distant thought.]
A standing invitation, by the by.
[He's not the type to be shy about showing affection, or accepting such displays regardless of where he is.]
no subject
She wiggles out of her green cardigan and pushes it to the side before lightly remarking back though her tone is low.]
Is that where we're going with this?
[Amelia closes the distance again and this time the length of her body presses up against his. She's fully clothed, but without the bulk of her knitted cardigan, the contact feels closer than before.]
You just told me you were a patient man.
no subject
I was merely referring to more opportunities just like this.
[He demonstrates by dropping a chaste kiss against the bridge of her nose, though having her pulled against him with even one less layer of clothing than before is certainly doing a great deal to test that patience and will of his.]
What were you thinking of, hm?
no subject
[The kiss on her nose doesn't garner a reaction from her. Amelia's gaze remains cool and unwavering as she moves one leg to nudge between his knees.]
I was thinking...
[And she pauses as her lips graze against Gale's lower lip. Then she kisses him, a feathery light thing against the seam of his mouth.
It is an absolute and deliberate tease. When she draws back, her voice remains casual.]
—I was thinking that you want me to try your patience, Gale.
autofill why
That she can manage to sound so casual with the warm line of her body pressed against his is, frankly, a marvel— he knows that there's going to be a husky edge to his voice when he speaks again, that tease of hers stirring up a fluttering in his abdomen.]
I think that you, [he begins slowly, deliberately, his own voice low as his fingers curl into the fabric of her shirt at the small of her back,] want to see what happens if you do.
[It would be a terribly risky assumption to make otherwise; he may be a patient man, but he's hardly a priest, nor is he made of stone. He shifts to angle himself forward, less passive than his posture has been so far, and leans in to press a light kiss against her jawline before he murmurs against it, just below her ear.]
Tempting fate, are you?
2gale2handle
Amelia cannot ignore the question's underlying meaning; as Gale kisses her jawline and whispers into her ear, a color floods her cheeks, the tips of her ears, and down to her neck. But somehow she manages to maintain their breathy rapport.]
It wouldn't be the first time... Nn.
[There's no mistaking that enticing sound as much as she tries to suppress it. If he pulls back to look, her green eyes filled with that lovely haze that emerged back at the ball.]
... Gale? It's still cold, you know.
[Amelia slowly starts to sit up so that whatever happens next they aren't lying down.]
Would it be so bad? If it was a little warmer?
no subject
He props himself up with one hand as she sits up, the blanket still draped over them as best it can be despite their shifting, and he pulls back just enough to let her move as she wishes— enough that he can see that lovely haze in her eyes, mirrored in his own by an intense heat, soulful brown eyes heavy but still with that mischievous sparkle of his.]
Would it be so bad?
[He echoes her with a low chuckle, biting slightly at his lower lip, unable to look away from the way her face and ears have flushed.
He could dismiss the cold in an instant, if he wished, but this is far more interesting.]
I would hardly complain. How could I?
[He shifts so that he, too, is seated, his hand only leaving her lower back for but a moment as he does so, returning with fingers spread and teasing at the hem of her shirt as he leans in as if for another kiss, wondering in passing if she'll still taste of wine. He stops, instead, just short of her lips, letting his forehead come to rest against hers, hardly more than a hair's breadth between them.]
I am many, many things, dear heart, but I am not coy. You need but say the word, and I am yours.
no subject
Fundamentally, Amelia may be more impatient between the two of them.
As he teases the hem of her shirt and their foreheads touch, she doesn't take time to answer his question. One hand reaches to rest on the back of Gale's neck, threading through his hair, and she goes in for a kiss. It isn't heated at first but as she parts her lips there's a keen wanting behind it that she couldn't possibly describe to him in words.]
no subject
He traces the curve of her lower lip with his tongue before truly allowing himself to taste her, his efforts soft and searching as he keeps the heat of his own kiss barely restrained, but there's a hunger and wanting apparent in the rapid pace of his heartbeat, the rigid curl of his fingers against her hips as he forces himself to move slowly, not to allow his hands to wander until he's been explicitly invited. He might not be a perfect gentleman, but the situation is delicate, and he intends to be cautious with her— as though she might break if he moves too quickly or with too much force, despite the fact that he is a man long-starved for what she represents on every level.
His breath is sharp and heavy between kisses, though the space between them is short as he chases her lips for another, the press of his own lips searing as he tangles his fingers in her hair, cupping the side of her face as he tries to show her without words how very much she is wanted, pouring every ounce of himself into it as though his very breath would serve him better than speeches in this instance.]
no subject
And then they move to her face and her hair and the weight of their breath mingling starts to make Amelia feel dizzy; drunk even. There's an internal struggle between staying as is and drinking him in and letting him drink from her or responding to the hunger behind his caresses and letting them devour—
It's hot. Maddening. Her kisses are becoming desperate. This is good, Gale is good, wonderful, more than she could have ever dreamed of, but this is incomplete and the compulsion grows stronger. She has to breathe, but when Amelia temporarily withdraws, she's magicked away her long-sleeved turtleneck. All she's wearing underneath is a white lace camisole rendering her arms, and shoulders bare, including the curve and dip of her chest.]
Gale— [Amelia's hand finds his fingers and intertwines them with her own. Her eyes are completely ablaze with an invitation to partake further if he dares.]
no subject
She is quite literally breathtaking.
He feels his heart beat against the inside of his ribs, fit to break his chest, and the thoughts he'd previously had about meticulously planning and ensuring their first time together would be perfect— they're quite distant now. Nothing is set in stone, but it's painfully clear they both want one another, the countless thoughts he's had of what it might be like to run his deft fingers across that fair skin of hers and explore her with his lips now reality.
He kisses her again then, hard and unrestrained, desperate in its own right before he begins to work his way along her jaw, pressing a series of kisses against it before he dips his head to nuzzle against her neck, his beard lightly scraping against her skin before his lips do, murmuring against its curve.]
I am yours.
[He repeats himself and it sounds like a promise rather than an invitation this time, and then he absolutely dares as she'd silently offered him with that intense, heated gaze of hers, his hand now slipping beneath her camisole completely and skimming its way up her back. Her skin feels hot to the touch, his fingers spread as he pulls her closer and raises his head to claim her mouth again, releasing her hand to gently cup one of her breasts with her camisole still between them, his kiss demanding despite his sweet and mannerly nature.]
no subject
I am yours.
Hers. Someone for her own. His heart was given freely, offered into her own hands. Who could ignore such an alluring promise? A fool that's who and Amelia is not one in this sublime moment.
Deft hands brush under her camisole and as he caresses one of her breasts, she moans into his mouth as he claims her lips once again. Their sweet play is escalating into something more lustful, yet honest. Within a second where she can regain one breath, she sits up, moves her hands to Gale's shoulders, and with abrupt strength, pushes and pins him down so that he's on his back and she hovers above him instead, with one leg between his.
Her eyes, intense and full of passionate purpose, never leave his as one hand moves to loosen the collar of his tunic.]
no subject
His breath is ragged as he leans upwards to be able to kiss her neck in earnest now, letting a soft groan escape him against her fair skin as he kisses his way along its curve and towards her collarbone, shrugging one shoulder to pull his arm free from his tunic once she has his collar loosened. The moment he's free, he skims his fingers over the flat of her stomach, sliding upwards beneath her camisole to stop against her ribs, only allowing his thumb to lightly trace the curve of her breast to tease her.
His ideals and thoughts of perfection be damned; he cannot imagine anything more perfect than this.]
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If they're already this ravenous from just tasting and touching, a thrill travels up her spine when she thinks about how much deeper and riveting it can become.
Before she can set her lips on his neck and paint it with her kisses, he teases the curve of her chest and it makes her swallow with anticipation. Releasing his shoulders, she sits up straighter and prepares to remove her top because it is too hot—]
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ACHOO! [Well, she covered her nose and mouth with the crook of her elbow, but just as quickly and suddenly she rolls off of Gale, teeth chattering and throwing the blanket across their bodies.]
Oh, god that's cold!
[g'night everybody!]
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He tentatively lays a hand on Amelia's shoulder, apologetic.]
Are you alright? I apologize, when I conjured this place, I didn't consider that we might—
[He cuts himself off, his face still deeply flushed and only partly from embarrassment, then huffs softly before letting out a nervous laugh. Well, he supposes this was proof that he hadn't asked her here with any ulterior motives, at least.]
... perhaps I was a bit too attentive to detail.
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... It was a little enjoyable though even if the cold cut it short.
The conjured brazier is welcome and Amelia moves closer to Gale to snuggle against his chest for extra warmth. His hand on her shoulder causes her to still and think. Looking up at his face, she can see Gale all flushed and hear the nervousness in his laughter. It affects her and she finds herself chuckling too and she reaches up to touch his cheek with her palm reassuringly.]
No worries, Gale. I'm sorry I... started to get us both worked up and... Well.
[She huffs out another laugh. Considering how much thought Gale put into their whole date, his apology for the overly detailed environment speaks to how much he wanted this all to be perfect, regardless of whether they went all the way or not. It's ended up as the latter but Amelia doesn't particularly feel... Bad? Maybe a little.
And it hits her that this isn't life-ruining, an omen of things to come, or even all that shameful. It's comedic and in the grand scheme of things, she was okay with it all because it's with Gale.
She'll check in with him first though.]
Um. How are you feeling?
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I'm just fine. There's no need to apologize.
[The fact that she still wants to be here with him, that she's curled up against his half-bared chest beneath this blanket rather than hurriedly dressing herself and being on her way means that this doesn't have to be as catastrophic a thing as might have once thought, though there is a faint pang of worry in his chest. Had he said too much, set forth expectations he hadn't meant to? She doesn't seem to be upset, which does offer him some comfort in that regard.]
Just an unfortunate fumble. I just— [He pauses to clear his throat.] May need a few minutes. That was rather... invigorating, shall we say.
[He'll get over it easily enough, and that soft smile of his persists he presses another kiss against her forehead.]
It's probably for the best. I don't know that our first time making love ought to be on the ground, conjured or otherwise.
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