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“Take off your clothes.”
Well so much for foreplay.
Maravix lets out a shocked sort of laugh that exists only on an exhale. She had only ever had the pleasure of sleeping with Jean-Baptiste once in her younger years at the monastery just before he left.
Back then he was still repressed and unsure, fighting with his turbulent emotions and desperate to please. He had been excellent, with stamina she has yet to find a match for and just clueless enough to really let her take charge.
Things are different now it seems. Confidence is a very good look on him she decides.
After his rather forward demand Maravix was sure he would move closer, press himself against her. Tug and pull at the clothes she is yet to remove, perhaps tear them just a little, just enough to annoy and arouse her in equal measure.
Instead she watches in confusion as he places more distance between them, turning away to enter the bathroom.
She hears the sound of running water and raises an eyebrow.
When he exits again and approaches her she can spot just behind him the room beginning to fill with steam and bites back an incredulous laugh.
“Are you planning on having a bath first? I certainly hope it isn't for after, otherwise it'll be cold by the time I'm done with yo-” JB catches her hand as it reaches towards his belt, Fingers wrapping gently around her wrist as he offers her a small shake of his head.
“No?” Confusion and a hint of rejection dance through her mind and her heart drops. He's changed his mind “But I thought-” -
"I didn't tell you to think Maravix-" he drops her hand and takes a step back, eyes pointedly tracing down the line of her body "I told you to take your clothes off."
Her hand chases his for a moment reaching out as her mind staggers to catch up "You don't want me to-"
"Maravix." His voice is firm but calm. Despite everything he's being so gentle with her, she feels sick with it. "Take. Your. Clothes. Off."
She stares at him for a long moment, fighting back an instinctual riposte of defiance.
“Now.”
For the first time in a long time she does as she's told.
She maintains a sense of control by allowing her eyes to linger on his as she slips her shirt off her shoulders wincing in pain as it brushes over a still healing cut across her arm. A cool breeze brushes over her skin and she shivers. The air seems to dance around her following each curve of her body that is revealed, lingering over each blooming bruise.
She knows it's him.
Can feel it in the playful way the chill whirls around her. Soothing and distracting as each layer is stripped away, it is exactly what she needs.
She had asked for this after all.
In the early evening once things had calmed a little and battle wounds were tended to, all nervous energy and repressed grief.
She had clung to him with wide eyes, breath stuttering in her chest as she'd begged him for structure, and asked him to help her forget just for a moment everything she has failed to be.
Let me prove I'm still good for something, she had thought, let me prove I'm worth something.
The bath is ready by the time she stands naked before him. Still fully clothed he reaches out and gestures for her to come closer.
“Can I kiss you Maravix?”
Her only response is a firm nod.
He moves slowly and carefully presses his lips to the corner of her mouth, tracing down the curve of her jaw, the slope of her neck, and the hollow of her throat. He nips lightly at her and breathes against her, gently guiding her hand to press against his neck.
It takes her a moment to realise what he's doing, she feels his pulse thump under her fingertips and lets out a quiet gasp. ‘I'm alive, I'm still here because of you.’ it seems to say. The warmth of him slowly drags her mind out of the snowstorm it's been trapped in.
He takes a step backwards, towards the bathroom, without putting space between them as he kisses her. For the first time in her life she follows without hesitation, her mind pleasantly blank as he licks into her mouth and runs his fingers through her hair.
When his legs hit the edge of the tub he reaches down and grasps her other hand, the one not made of branch and vine. Fingers tracing down the length of it as he dips her fingers into the water. Placing one last kiss to her mouth before pulling back to watch her face and gauge her response.
"Good?" His voice is soft and lilting, with that coloured edge of desperation she's grown to sense in him, a desperation to help, and heal. A desire to please.
"Hmm." She lets her eyes fall closed again and nods resting her head against his chest feeling the warmth of the water dance across her fingertips.
It's interesting, this hadn't been what she had expected when she'd asked him to take control. She finds her heart stuttering in her chest. It's all so very gentle, so very kind.
JB guides her into the bath with his words and his hands. For a moment she thinks he may join her and works to make room but instead he guides her to lay fully back.
She allows herself to be led and settles into the heat with a moan.
The water rests just above her collar bone, she feels the desire to sink in completely. For a moment she longs to let herself drown.
There is ice stuck deep within her, she feels it thaw but not melt.
She knows she doesn't deserve this.
JB must see a change in her, must sense the crawling dread and pain creeping into her mind.
His fingers are anything but gentle when he wraps them through her hair and pulls, forcing her to open her eyes and look up at him.
"I want you here with me.”
“I am.”
"No you're somewhere else, somewhere cold.” He kneels by the edge of the tub and offers her a slow sad smile, resting a hand on the curve of her knee unobscured by water. “I shouldn't have to fight for your attention Maravix. Not when you asked for this.”
She thinks about saying he has to earn it but that isn't right, isn't true. He deserves it fully, she knows he does and feels a welling shame at her distance.
“Sorry. This isn't what I-”
“What did you ask me for?”
“I asked you to do whatever you want to me.”
She sees something spark behind his eyes, a glimmer of that endless storm that makes its home within him. Powerful, unruly, and wild. In an instant it's gone, replaced by the bright blue of calm and gentle waters.
“And if all I want is to wash your hair and hold you while you sleep?”
She bites back a harsh laugh and shakes her head pulling free from his grip “I don't think that's all you want Jean-Baptiste. I think perhaps you'd like to get me on my knees and fuc-”
“Maravix.”
Her mouth snaps shut in shock.
He didn't shout, didn't even use a harsh tone but … he interrupted her. Jean-Baptiste has never interrupted her.
“Remember who's in charge here?” His tone is somewhat condescending, as though she may have actually forgotten what exactly she had asked for. She feels herself grow inexplicably flushed as she nods.
“And you still want this?”
“... yes.”
“Then we do it my way, not yours. If you push back and act like a brat I won't punish you, I won't get angry, I won't even pretend, that wouldn't be good for either of us, we'll just stop.”
"I just I-I ..." She fights past the shame and the guilt, breath catching in her throat "I just don't want to be in my head anymore. I need- I need to-"
"I know. I understand."
She knows he does, it's exactly why she chose him. Why she'd pulled him aside and led him to her chambers. Why when he'd asked her to explain she had done so without question. He wouldn't judge. He hadn't. and yet she finds she is terrified.
She feels herself fight for control for a moment, feels him begin to pull away and she stops and stills, eyes squeezed shut as though that might make this any easier.
“... I want to be useful. Please let me be useful.”
She's glad he's kneeling beside the bath, glad her eyes are shut and she can't see the pity that must be reflected in his eyes, how pathetic she must sound, how helpless.
“Good.” His voice is as gentle as the hand he runs through her hair. “That I can help with but first I'll give you two options, I can touch you while you wash your hair for me” that same hand travels down her body and dips between her legs under the water “or I can wash your hair while you touch yourself. As talented as I am, I cannot do both.”
She allows herself for a moment to enjoy the feeling of his hand pressed against her before she pushes it away and replaces it with her own. She thinks she hears him laugh but can hardly focus as his hands find their way into her hair again.
She whines and presses her head back into his hands gasping as he pulls a little.
“Enjoy yourself but don't cum.”
“Why?” She hates the fact it sounds so petulant, so whiney.
He responds with a simple “Because I said so.” as he lathers soap in her hair.
In the end it is a surprisingly easy order to follow, in fact as time wears on Maravix finds that perhaps through a combination of the hot water, and the feeling of JBs hands in her hair she all but forgets to focus on her own and the pleasure it might bring her.
She simply lets her eyes close, focus slipping until all she feels is the heat of the water around her and his hands in her hair.
Hands that slowly drift down to massage her neck and shoulders. She bites back a groan, teeth pulling at her bottom lip.
It takes her a moment to realise he's pushing her down silently asking her to let her head fall under the water so that he might rinse the soap from her hair.
When she emerges from the water she feels the tension of the past few days fade just a little and offers JB a small smile as he uses a face cloth to dry away stray drops of water before they can get to her eyes.
“Thank you.” It sounds almost apologetic when she says it eyes darting down shyly as she speaks “really I just- I don't know what you could possibly be getting out of this JB when I offered myself to you I thought you mi-”
Her words are cut short, eyes widening as JB grasps her still damp hand and presses it between his legs, allowing her to feel the hard line of him tenting against his slacks.
“Believe me” He rocks into her hand a little, voice slipping into a rumble as he assures her."I am enjoying this Maravix.”
“Oh, oh.”
The heat between her legs reignited and she stands before she thinks perhaps she should wait until he tells her to.
The water splashes over the edge of the tub and she offers him a slow once over.
“It seems your clothes have gotten wet.”
“So they have.”
“Perhaps you should take them off before you catch a chill.”
“Perhaps you should remember who's in charge here and apologize for getting water on me.”
“How might I do that?”
“Oh I'm sure I'll think of something.”
He wraps her in a towel and lifts her, carrying her with ease back into the bedroom, setting her gently on the bed.
He stands back and grins eyes tracing the water droplets gliding down her still damp body. “Well, inspiration is certainly hitting me now.”
The shiver that runs through her is half arousal, half chill, JB as attentive as ever moves closer “are you cold?”
“A little.”
And again it occurs to her that It's all so very caring, so soft and slow, gentle in a way she is sure she does not deserve.
She had expected him to be rough. A part of her needed him to be. Wanted him to provide the punishment the world hadn't. It was unhealthy and reckless she knows, but in the moment it was the only thing that might possibly feel right.
She had wanted him to use her, to help her prove she was still good for something.
Had expected him to wrap his hands around her throat and drag her into thoughtless pleasure. Push her to her breaking point so that she could finally stop thinking.
She realises quickly that's what she would have done, if someone had asked her ... but not him.
JB knew that she didn't get pleasure from pain, she just thought that she deserved it.
When he grasps the towel and pulls it from her it occurs to her that she is naked and he is still in those damp clothes of his.
There is an imbalance here she usually thrives on when she's the other side of it.
“Relax. It's just me.”
As if Jean-Baptiste could be just anything. Just a good guy, just trying to help. Nonsense, He was everything to her and he didn't even know it, she'd never tell him of course but maybe just this once in her own way, she could show him if he'd actually let her touch him.
“Come on Maravix, let me make you feel good.”
His hands feel cold resting on her open thighs, thumb brushing gently against the skin there following the pattern of her stretchmarks, lingering on each blemish and scar. Trying to sooth her, to calm her down.
She's still damp from the bath and shivers when she feels a rush of air wash over her. JB smirks as it happens again.
“ … maybe I don't even need to touch you.”
The insistent heavy pressure of his hands is gone, replaced by the brush of air rushing along her leg and up her side. It feels like the ghost of a touch, the memory of it. Distant and not quite enough. She fucking loves it.
“Hmm no, but I'd prefer it if you did though.”
“Then ask.”
It's as firm as he's ever sounded and it's still as soft as the pillow she lays back on as she raises an eyebrow. “Then Ask” she repeats in a mimicry of his accent, so unlike her own “Not beg?”
“No, that'll come later.”
“Hopefully It won't be the only thing.”
The quip is unlike her, and he stares at her with wide brilliant eyes valiantly fighting back a laugh. Afraid to break the scene, ruin the moment.
She offers him a small smile, the first since they returned to the monastery. “It's okay to laugh.” She says as much to herself as to him. “It's good to laugh.”
The moment passes when his eyes dart down the length of her and she watches him remember why he's here, why she's here.
“Touch yourself for me.”
“You don't want to do it yourself?” She spreads her legs with a smirk.
“If I have to repeat myself again you will be sourly disappointed in how this evening ends.”
With a scoff and a roll of her eyes Maravix decides to tease him a little.
He'd said to touch herself but not where.
She lets her eyes slip shut and starts by running her hands through her hair finger combing out each tangle and knot pulling it back and away from her face. There she drifts her hands down to cup her own breasts shivering a little at the cold air now dancing around her.
By the time she reaches the apex between her legs she peaks one eye open and fights back a deep welling of pride when she sees the way JB has leant forward captivated by her.
She wouldn't normally start with penetration but it's worth it to see his mouth fall open on a sharp inhale as he watches her slip a finger then two into herself.
“Stop.”
Isn't exactly what she'd expected to hear.
“But I-”
“Stop.” He moves forward hand grasping her wrist gently “Slow down.”
“But I want-”
“No, you don't want anything but what I tell you to want. If I say slowly you go slowly, if I say stop you stop and say thank you. That is how this is going to work, Maravix. I'm only giving you what you asked for.”
She doesn't recall asking to be tortured but perhaps that's just what he's into.
She huffs and pouts a little, batting her eyelashes as though that might convince him to ease his grip on the reins just a little.
“This Maravix-” He offers a smile as he uses his grip on her wrist to push her fingers deeper “is where the begging comes into play.”
“Oh fuck you.”
“Not yet.” He drops her wrist. “You wanted to get out of your head? You wanted me to take charge? Well this is what that looks like.” He settles on the edge of the bed and wraps a hand around her ankles tugging slightly to part her legs wider. “Go on.”
Maravix likes to think she isn't being too presumptuous when she nods and slips a third finger in, thumbing at her clit to work through the initial stretch. If she were simply having fun herself she would have stuck to two, she remembers her first time with JB and desperately hopes she'll get a repeat tonight.
He lets her get right to the edge twice before she hears him inhale, about to speak again “Sto-” and her resolve breaks.
“No no no Please no I don't want to stop.”
“But I've asked you to, so you will.”
“... yes.” She thumps her hands down on the mattress beside her, gripping the sheets in frustration.
“And you'll thank me.”
“Thank you.”
“Maybe I'll let you cum when you sound genuine instead of sarcastic.”
“So never then, great.”
"Maravix-”
“Sorry I'll stop.”
“Good girl.”
They continue for another round before her patience reaches its limit. “I can't- please I-I” she's writhing on the bed, feet scrambling on the sheets, she's more desperate than she can ever recall being and still he's waiting. For what she cannot say.
“Let me help you.”
He moves closer until he's resting over her, still with those stupid damp, now dry, clothes on and takes her hands moving them to rest above her head. She hardly has the time to appreciate the fact that he's holding both wrists in one hand before the other replaces hers and he pushes three fingers into her.
He's even better than she remembers.
The tension builds quickly in her at the extra stretch and she gasps straining against his hold.
He watches her with dark, pleasure eclipsed eyes, mouth parted slightly. Breathless in his own right and just as beautiful.
His eyes dance across her body lingering on the curve of her hips and the way her thighs tremble, shifting uselessly against his grip. Despite her protests it suits her, being here naked and desperate beneath him.
“Please Jean let me-”
“Tell me you deserve it.”
“what? I-I”
He begins to slow again and she whines chasing the feeling as it ebbs tears gathering at the corner of her eyes.
“Tell me that you deserve to feel good.”
“I deserve it I-I-” It's the most difficult thing she's ever made herself say and she knows now why he's made her this desperate, this needy, this vulnerable “I deserve to feel good, I do. Please make me feel good.”
In an instant he is upon her. Body covering her own as he grinds himself against her thigh, breath catching as he presses his face into her neck a hand reaching down to undo his belt “Can I-”
“Yes please yes-” She reaches down blindly and helps guide him into her gasping at the stretch.
She wraps her arms around him grasping at the strong muscles of his back holding him close as he ruts into her hardly pulling out before he grinds back in. The weight of him is a comfort. Warm and unyielding.
His shifts hands wrapping around and under her to grasp her shoulders pulling her down to meet his thrusts.
Her voice is all rasp gasping through her pleasure until it becomes more noise than words until all she can say is his name and “oh thank you.”
His grip on her tightens and he shudders against her mumbling something into the crook of her neck.
“Hmm?” is is a question and a pleased sigh.
“Again, say it again please, thank me, tell me it was good.” His voice trembles and his hips stutter against her, rhythm rough and unpredictable “Tell me I'm good.”
“Oh you are, you're so good. You were amazing JB, you were perfect.” The praise comes easy to her as she runs her fingers through his hair. Legs coming up to hook around his waist holding him in place. “Oh fuck yes yes right there.”
He is so beautiful here, unguarded gasping and moaning against her, she realises perhaps she doesn't tell him enough just how much she appreciates him. She makes sure to as she feels herself reach her peak gasping into his ear “Thank you.”
It doesn't take long for him to follow her groaning and pressing himself as close to her as he can, while he bites her neck desperate to hold onto her in any way he can.
They lay together for a moment a sweaty tangled mess. Maravix running her hands through his hair down his back as he relaxes against her.
“... do you think that bath is still hot enough to use?”
She feels more than hears him chuckle against her neck, feeling the weight of him shift as he moves to lay beside her instead of on top of her.
“Unless that really is a kink of yours JB? If I have another bath will you accost me again?"
“Accost! Is that what you call it?” He scoffs “I only did what you asked me to.”
“... yes, you're right.” She smiles “Thank you.”
Maravix feels a familiar flash of pride as he flushes and glances away bashfully.
“Next time I'm in charge.”
“Why? This wasn't to your liking.”
“Oh believe me, I enjoyed it immensely but seeing how riled up you got over taking care of me has given me inspiration.”
“You say that like it's a threat.”
“It is.”