Princess Tutu fic, Mytho/Rue, Heat and Warmth (NC-17)
Title: Heat and Warmth
Fandom: Princess Tutu
Pairing: Mytho/Rue
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Explicit sex.
Notes: This is probably the happiest thing I've ever written, and it's porn. Go figure.
When Rue tastes happiness for the first time, it is a warm, soft feeling, like the silk of her wedding dress brushing against her skin, or Mytho's cheek, when she reaches up to give it a light touch as they kiss. It's like the dim light of the candles of the church, filtering through stained glass window and casting little flecks of color upon her as she takes her careful steps towards the altar. In a way, it feels like a strange new world that she is plunging into for the first time, unaware of where she might land. And in spite of everything, it's a little unnerving, this feeling.
When night falls, the warmth seems to change, into a heat that settles over their bedroom like a cloud of fog. During the summer it's far too hot to start a fire in the hearth, so they fill the room with candles so that they can see. It makes the shadows on the wall change and multiply, and even though her prince is right next to her, she still shudders a little when she sees one twist into a familiar and terrifying shape.
But he is here, and she is safe, and she feels so grateful when she feels his arms coming around her from behind, to comfort her. He smells wonderful, like summer rain, and something else, something strange and heady that she can't quite name. She wants to stay like this with him forever, basking in this perfection, but then, he speaks, his quiet voice cracking the silence like glass.
"Rue?"
She reaches up, placing her hand on his arm, as if to silence him, so that she may enjoy his presence once more.
"Yes, Prince?"
He pulls her even closer to him, burying his face in her neck, her soft hair brushing his cheek.
"I love you."
She turns a little, to look at him.
"I... I love you too. So much."
"I just wanted you to know. I want you to never forget it."
"I would never." she says quietly.
He lets her go, moving away from her to change for bed. In the mirror, she watches him take his shoes off, before turning to look at her own reflection. It's strange, how she looks in her wedding dress. Before she never thought white suited her, but now, she's beautiful, wrapped up in this dress and veil. She pulls her veil off, setting it down on the table next to the mirror. She does the same with her jewelry, massaging her sore ears. She reaches up to undo the buttons of her dress, before turning to her prince.
"Mytho," she says, her old commanding tone rising up to the surface. "Help me with my dress, please."
He strides over to her, and she catches a glimpse of him, dressed only in his tights, in the mirror, before he is behind her, undoing her buttons one by one. They go all the way to the base of her spine, and when he's finished, he pushes her dress down over her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor, and leaving her in in her pale-colored slip. It's so thin, she can make out the lines of her breasts in the mirror, she feels naked and defenseless, even with her prince so close by.
A moment passes, and he's kissing her neck, then her shoulder, and then that last bit of exposed flesh next to her slip. His lips are warm and soft, and she doesn't want him to stop, and yet, she speaks.
"What are you doing, Mytho?"
He pauses in his kisses, his warm breath tickling her back.
"I don't know," he answers, with honest, naive brevity. He lifts his head up to peek over her shoulder, his eyes meeting hers through the mirror.
"Don't stop," she murmurs. He smiles at her, and moves to kiss her more, sliding the sleeve of her slip down her arm so that he may cover more of her shoulder with his lips. She shudders in delight at this strange, intimate, wonderful feeling, her back arching ever so slightly as a silent plea for more. His hands come down to caress her hips, pressing gently into her flesh through the thin fabric. She reaches back and places her hands on his, pulling them to the front of her body.
"Rue?" His voice comes from behind her, soft and uncertain.
She stiffens, releasing his hands, letting her arms drop to her side. His hands linger, though, hesitantly touching her, so lightly she can hardly feel it.
"Mytho," she says, looking down, away from him. "Do you love me?"
"Of course," he says, confused.
"More than anyone? Enough to give me everything?"
"Yes." He says it without hesitation, and it makes her feel like crying. How could he give himself so readily? But he was always like that, always willing to give up even his life for someone else, anyone else. Even someone like her.
His hands linger over her, as if he's afraid to do anything further. She feels the same way, a little; this is something so new, so very nearly terrifying. Still, she is the one who reaches for his cheek, cupping his face in her hands and craning her neck back to kiss him. His mouth is sweet and familiar, something she's tasted many times, but now it's warmer, and a little heavy-tasting. When she finishes, he opens his eyes, face flushed.
"Come with me," she says taking both of his hands in hers. She leads him to the bed, pushes him lightly, sitting him down with her palms against his chest. He looks up at her, and she takes his mouth again, briefly, with a soft smile on her face.
"Rue..." he says, looking up into her eyes, as if seeing her for the first time. It's a beautiful look, she thinks. He reaches up, fingers brushing her back, then, slowly, gently, pulls her down, so that she is close enough to feel his heartbeat, to hear every breath that he takes.
"Take it off of me, Prince," she whispers fervently into his ear. She is no longer afraid, or nervous. She is ready, she thinks.
Hesitantly, he reaches up, fiddling with her straps before slipping them down, over her shoulders, exposing her breasts. He pulls her down, places soft kisses on her throat, her shoulder, and that warm, hot place between her breasts. She pulls away from him, and stands up, letting her slip fall silently to the floor. Now, she stands naked before him.
Slowly, she climbs onto the bed, crawling over him, pressing him down until he is flat on his back, staring up at her in awe. She lets her hands trail over his body, leaving feather-light touches that make him shudder in her wake. When she reaches that spot, that delicate bulge straining against his tights, she pauses, fingers lingering hesitantly.
For a moment, her eyes meet his, and she sees desire there, written on his flushed face, his half-lidded eyes. Carefully, she pulls his tights down over his hips, gently pulling out his erection, while he trembles in anticipation. At first, her touches are light, almost nervous, but with another glance at him, she overcomes it, moving her fingers up and down his shaft, still gently, but quicker, quick enough to make him let out the tiniest of moans, in the back of his throat.
Looking at him, touching him like this, she feels an overwhelming heat bubbling up within her, a desire to hold him closer, to possess him fully. It scares her, a little, even now; it is what Kraehe felt, when she bathed his heart in blood. It is implacable, she is certain.
Rue feels his hips buck against her slightly, begging for something she knows he can't name. She moves her hands away. He looks up at her, confused, but only for a moment. Then, with a single, smooth motion, she slides herself onto him, and, slowly, begins to move. He is startled, and releases another, deeper moan. She moves faster.
The throbbing heat within her is building up, getting stronger, threatening to burst out of her. With every thrust, with every gasp from his beautiful mouth, it flares up anew, overwhelming her. She wants to stay like this forever, with him, writhing with pleasure beneath her. But it's getting to be too much, it's wearing her out, pushing and pushing against her until she feels she will burst, with what, she doesn't know.
And then, without warning, she does. Her whole body tenses, her thighs tightening around his, her fingers digging into the duvet. For a split second there is nothing but this, nothing but pleasure, and then, it is over and Rue is left panting, leaning over his body. She feels his arms wrapping around her as her pulls her close, hips thrusting all the more desperately, until, suddenly, he tightens his hold, muffling his cries in her dark hair.
She can hear every breath he takes as she slides off, settling in next to him. He is tired, she is tired, they both can scarcely breathe, and their body are slick and heavy with sweat. But she sees nothing but a smile on his face, contented and warm. He does not let her go, but holds her loosely in his arms, face still buried in her neck. She is so close to him she can hear his very heart beating, and it makes her own heart want to burst, with that feeling that before felt so alien she could scarcely name it.
Ah, she thinks, as his breathing becomes quieter, and her prince begins to drift into sleep. This is happiness.
Fandom: Princess Tutu
Pairing: Mytho/Rue
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Explicit sex.
Notes: This is probably the happiest thing I've ever written, and it's porn. Go figure.
When Rue tastes happiness for the first time, it is a warm, soft feeling, like the silk of her wedding dress brushing against her skin, or Mytho's cheek, when she reaches up to give it a light touch as they kiss. It's like the dim light of the candles of the church, filtering through stained glass window and casting little flecks of color upon her as she takes her careful steps towards the altar. In a way, it feels like a strange new world that she is plunging into for the first time, unaware of where she might land. And in spite of everything, it's a little unnerving, this feeling.
When night falls, the warmth seems to change, into a heat that settles over their bedroom like a cloud of fog. During the summer it's far too hot to start a fire in the hearth, so they fill the room with candles so that they can see. It makes the shadows on the wall change and multiply, and even though her prince is right next to her, she still shudders a little when she sees one twist into a familiar and terrifying shape.
But he is here, and she is safe, and she feels so grateful when she feels his arms coming around her from behind, to comfort her. He smells wonderful, like summer rain, and something else, something strange and heady that she can't quite name. She wants to stay like this with him forever, basking in this perfection, but then, he speaks, his quiet voice cracking the silence like glass.
"Rue?"
She reaches up, placing her hand on his arm, as if to silence him, so that she may enjoy his presence once more.
"Yes, Prince?"
He pulls her even closer to him, burying his face in her neck, her soft hair brushing his cheek.
"I love you."
She turns a little, to look at him.
"I... I love you too. So much."
"I just wanted you to know. I want you to never forget it."
"I would never." she says quietly.
He lets her go, moving away from her to change for bed. In the mirror, she watches him take his shoes off, before turning to look at her own reflection. It's strange, how she looks in her wedding dress. Before she never thought white suited her, but now, she's beautiful, wrapped up in this dress and veil. She pulls her veil off, setting it down on the table next to the mirror. She does the same with her jewelry, massaging her sore ears. She reaches up to undo the buttons of her dress, before turning to her prince.
"Mytho," she says, her old commanding tone rising up to the surface. "Help me with my dress, please."
He strides over to her, and she catches a glimpse of him, dressed only in his tights, in the mirror, before he is behind her, undoing her buttons one by one. They go all the way to the base of her spine, and when he's finished, he pushes her dress down over her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor, and leaving her in in her pale-colored slip. It's so thin, she can make out the lines of her breasts in the mirror, she feels naked and defenseless, even with her prince so close by.
A moment passes, and he's kissing her neck, then her shoulder, and then that last bit of exposed flesh next to her slip. His lips are warm and soft, and she doesn't want him to stop, and yet, she speaks.
"What are you doing, Mytho?"
He pauses in his kisses, his warm breath tickling her back.
"I don't know," he answers, with honest, naive brevity. He lifts his head up to peek over her shoulder, his eyes meeting hers through the mirror.
"Don't stop," she murmurs. He smiles at her, and moves to kiss her more, sliding the sleeve of her slip down her arm so that he may cover more of her shoulder with his lips. She shudders in delight at this strange, intimate, wonderful feeling, her back arching ever so slightly as a silent plea for more. His hands come down to caress her hips, pressing gently into her flesh through the thin fabric. She reaches back and places her hands on his, pulling them to the front of her body.
"Rue?" His voice comes from behind her, soft and uncertain.
She stiffens, releasing his hands, letting her arms drop to her side. His hands linger, though, hesitantly touching her, so lightly she can hardly feel it.
"Mytho," she says, looking down, away from him. "Do you love me?"
"Of course," he says, confused.
"More than anyone? Enough to give me everything?"
"Yes." He says it without hesitation, and it makes her feel like crying. How could he give himself so readily? But he was always like that, always willing to give up even his life for someone else, anyone else. Even someone like her.
His hands linger over her, as if he's afraid to do anything further. She feels the same way, a little; this is something so new, so very nearly terrifying. Still, she is the one who reaches for his cheek, cupping his face in her hands and craning her neck back to kiss him. His mouth is sweet and familiar, something she's tasted many times, but now it's warmer, and a little heavy-tasting. When she finishes, he opens his eyes, face flushed.
"Come with me," she says taking both of his hands in hers. She leads him to the bed, pushes him lightly, sitting him down with her palms against his chest. He looks up at her, and she takes his mouth again, briefly, with a soft smile on her face.
"Rue..." he says, looking up into her eyes, as if seeing her for the first time. It's a beautiful look, she thinks. He reaches up, fingers brushing her back, then, slowly, gently, pulls her down, so that she is close enough to feel his heartbeat, to hear every breath that he takes.
"Take it off of me, Prince," she whispers fervently into his ear. She is no longer afraid, or nervous. She is ready, she thinks.
Hesitantly, he reaches up, fiddling with her straps before slipping them down, over her shoulders, exposing her breasts. He pulls her down, places soft kisses on her throat, her shoulder, and that warm, hot place between her breasts. She pulls away from him, and stands up, letting her slip fall silently to the floor. Now, she stands naked before him.
Slowly, she climbs onto the bed, crawling over him, pressing him down until he is flat on his back, staring up at her in awe. She lets her hands trail over his body, leaving feather-light touches that make him shudder in her wake. When she reaches that spot, that delicate bulge straining against his tights, she pauses, fingers lingering hesitantly.
For a moment, her eyes meet his, and she sees desire there, written on his flushed face, his half-lidded eyes. Carefully, she pulls his tights down over his hips, gently pulling out his erection, while he trembles in anticipation. At first, her touches are light, almost nervous, but with another glance at him, she overcomes it, moving her fingers up and down his shaft, still gently, but quicker, quick enough to make him let out the tiniest of moans, in the back of his throat.
Looking at him, touching him like this, she feels an overwhelming heat bubbling up within her, a desire to hold him closer, to possess him fully. It scares her, a little, even now; it is what Kraehe felt, when she bathed his heart in blood. It is implacable, she is certain.
Rue feels his hips buck against her slightly, begging for something she knows he can't name. She moves her hands away. He looks up at her, confused, but only for a moment. Then, with a single, smooth motion, she slides herself onto him, and, slowly, begins to move. He is startled, and releases another, deeper moan. She moves faster.
The throbbing heat within her is building up, getting stronger, threatening to burst out of her. With every thrust, with every gasp from his beautiful mouth, it flares up anew, overwhelming her. She wants to stay like this forever, with him, writhing with pleasure beneath her. But it's getting to be too much, it's wearing her out, pushing and pushing against her until she feels she will burst, with what, she doesn't know.
And then, without warning, she does. Her whole body tenses, her thighs tightening around his, her fingers digging into the duvet. For a split second there is nothing but this, nothing but pleasure, and then, it is over and Rue is left panting, leaning over his body. She feels his arms wrapping around her as her pulls her close, hips thrusting all the more desperately, until, suddenly, he tightens his hold, muffling his cries in her dark hair.
She can hear every breath he takes as she slides off, settling in next to him. He is tired, she is tired, they both can scarcely breathe, and their body are slick and heavy with sweat. But she sees nothing but a smile on his face, contented and warm. He does not let her go, but holds her loosely in his arms, face still buried in her neck. She is so close to him she can hear his very heart beating, and it makes her own heart want to burst, with that feeling that before felt so alien she could scarcely name it.
Ah, she thinks, as his breathing becomes quieter, and her prince begins to drift into sleep. This is happiness.