#lemon implied

Maybe Saoirse did know, but they were too busy observing, too busy playing a cacophony of things they noticed. All the apparent to anyone, the ones which only had meaning to them, and the ones only Saoirse themself could notice. Things like heart rates, or other likewise shifts; things like eyes as dark as Julianus’ overriding so many memories in Saoirse’s mind. 

If it meant getting lost in their storm-chaser, Saoirse didn’t mind getting lost in their mind as much. Though whatever Julianus was up to, required their full attention. 

Saoirse opened their mouth before Julie’s lips met theirs. Not going unnoticed, Julianus stopped a hair too fair from Saoirse’s lips, them feeling the ghost of their smile on theirs. Both of them knew Saoirse would undo that distance without effort, or that they could turn the tables with, also, no effort, but Saoirse didn’t want to. Saoirse was having fun. 

“Did you follow me here?” Saoirse said, amusement in their voice and their eyes on Jules’ lips. 

“Did you lead me here?” Was the cheeky reply they got.

It was a fair thing to question, and Saoirse said as much, but before the sentence was done, Julianus’ lips were on them — plump, soft, ever tended for, with that fuller bottom lip that was honey for the flies. The kiss was deep, but with pause, each of them savouring the moment. One, of having Saoirse, Saoirse, against a wall in a secluded corner of the ship. The other of the sensations that came with it. As Saoirse’s hands slid down Jules’ side and onto their bottom, they wondered if they should’ve kissed them sooner. 

But the Saoirse who met them would’ve never guessed any of this would happen. Change was a strange thing—

“I can hear you thinking from over here.”

“I’m observing.”

“Should I leave you to it, or should I give you more things to observe—?”

“Yes.”

Another smile ghosted over Saoirse’s lips but Julianus’ mouth did not return to them. Instead they moved to the corner of their mouth, to their cheek, to their jawline. There, they left a trail of kisses over it, one of them with a playful hint of teeth. As Julianus moved to Saoirse's neck, pressing their lips against it, they could feel Saoirse’s hands tighten around their clothes. They could still feel them thinking, very loudly, but they didn’t ask them to stop — it was Saoirse’s way to feel things; Julianus would be lying if they said this wasn’t the biggest confidence boost they’ll have in a while. 

Some kisses where just pressed lips against where Saoirse’s tendons or pulse point would be if they had one. Others had teeth, others had their mouth sucking against their neck and leaving a mark that only appeared because Saoirse wanted it there. They moved over to their shoulder line and their collarbone. Their hands began undoing Saoirse’s clothes as they pressed kisses against their skin; hands that trailed down against Saoirse’s side and stomach, until they stopped to toy with their waist band. 

Julianus pressed a kiss to the middle of their chest, where their heart would be if Saoirse needed one (they didn’t, not inside of them, not when Julianus existed). 

“You know, if you wanted to keep observing, all you need to do is flip a coin inside that head of yours and choose which would you like to see more, when I get on my knees,” they paused, their hands now on Saoirse’s hips, pressing them against the wall. “Because I don’t think I’m done having my way with you.”

“This is Kyremir. He’s your new coworker, he learns fast from what I’ve heard so I expect great things from the two of you.” Your manager said simply, giving Kyremir a pat on the shoulder before turning and heading into their office. You turned your attention to the golden-eyed creature in front of you, he offered nothing more than a quick wave. 

You introduced yourself while preparing the next order. It was busy around this time of year since it was the ‘pumpkin everything’ season. You had quickly explained how the café works, the drinks and the like while pulling out the recipe book for him to follow. “Have you worked in a café before?” You questioned while writing down the order of the next customer in line, a rather large deertaur that had become a regular. 

“Yes, for a few years but every place is different. I had to take a break from working for awhile but it’s nice to be back and working again.” He offered as a response to the question as he began to work on the drink. 

The two of you had quickly developed a friendship, which soon evolved into something more the longer you had worked together. The café was always filled with a pleasant atmosphere when it was the two of you working together, that was until today. Kyremir’s tail was wrapped around your waist tightly as the large werewolf, who you assumed was a higher rank in the pack, berated Kyremir for apparently not making the pumpkin spice latté with enough of the pumpkin spice syrup. 

Your blood boiled underneath your skin, and while you may have been only a human, he had no right to treat Kyremir the way he was right now. You asked the customer at the register to forgive you but you had some business to attend to, and the customer only gave you a knowing smile before you had stomped your way over to Kyremir. Gently pushing him behind you as you stood tall, glaring at the werewolf in front of you. 

“Is there something I can help you with?” You asked in your most sickeningly sweet voice, the werewolf freezing in his temper tantrum. In a way you couldn’t blame him, the full moon was near after all and that tended to make all of them grouchier than normal. Nevertheless you would not tolerate it. 

“He obviously does not know how to make a proper pumpkin spice latté! I cannot believe that I’ve been coming here for so many years and this is the first time that I’ve had an issue! Ever since you hired him this place has gone downhill!” The werewolf raged, the pack behind him giving their agreements. 

“Excuse me?” You began, you could practically feel the nerves radiating off of Kyremir in waves. “Who are you to come in here and disrespect my partner like that? Just because it’s getting close to the full moon does not give you Karen privileges you overgrown pomeranian.” You hissed, merely getting warmed up before the werewolf could open his mouth again. The tail that was wrapped around your waist moved to your thigh as if it was a sort of comfort, nothing that you weren’t used to by now.

“If you want a pumpkin spice latté that bad, go to the supermarket and buy the mix yourself so nobody has to put up with that nasty attitude of yours. You and your pack are banned from this establishment until you can give a proper apology. Now get out before I call the cops and I really would hate to disturb the chief of police on his lunch break.” You pointed to a large minotaur that was sitting at the outdoor tables the café had set up. The werewolf merely grumbled in response before gathering his pack and leaving, you turned towards Kyremir who was desperately swiping at his eyes to hide the fact that he had been crying, his tail moving to instead curl around your wrist. 

“Hey, hey it’s okay…” You cooed quietly, bringing Kyremir into a much needed hug. “Go on your lunch. I’ll cover for you for the rest of the day okay?” You said as you began taking the next set of orders, Kyremir didn’t even argue, he left quietly. The customers that had heard the whole thing had confirmed your suspicions that the werewolves were just acting like jerks. 

After your shift had ended, you had gone into the back to grab Kyremir who was sitting at the table explaining everything to the manager after your manager had received several complaints about treating werewolves badly. You merely confirmed the story and the manager dismissed the both of you to go home, Kyremir curled his tail around your thigh as you walked to your car,  the two of you having moved into a shared apartment weeks ago. 

“Well, I don’t like it but those werewolves had it coming, you were right. Just because there is a full moon approaching doesn’t give them the right to act like that. I’m going to give the two of you off for the next two days just so you don’t have to deal with them again.” Your manager stated, the both of you thanking them profusely for the extra days off. 

Once home and finally out of your work clothes for the day, you curled up on the couch with Kyremir, a movie idly playing in the background as his tail made its rounds, rubbing along your back, down your legs, up your arms, wherever it could possibly reach. This was nothing out of the ordinary after you had a long day at work and in fact had become almost a habit. 

“I’m sorry today was such a bad day.” You apologized, Kyremir’s arms wrapping around you in a tight hug as he held you closer. The warmth that radiated off of him put you in a sleepy sort of state. 

“It’s not your fault.” He murmured as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “I’d rather it be me than you, I don’t know what I’d do if I heard someone go off on you like that.” He huffed, a quiet growl erupting from him at the mere thought of it. 

“Probably do something similar no doubt.” You confirmed your suspicions when he gave you a slightly devious smirk, snuggling into him as much as possible, damn he was warm. 

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Third Thoughts

So you should definitely compare this against the first version (which remember is a private post now from about two weeks ago), because I think this is better in a lot of ways but also quite different and I wouldn’t be surprised if some stuff. Okay I copied it below

I think that, kind of accidentally, there’s a progression here not only toward greater intimacy but also toward more immediacy, less fancy sentence constructions. If not, I think you should do that; it’s a nice little touch and it probably will be easier, honestly. But, counterpoint: you should be careful that it’s not pure thesaurus work at the end; you can do that for a bit but it gets old fast.

In the end this isn’t going to be as vore as you were hoping, but like... is that a problem, really? I think the concept is good as it is. Nobody said this had to be kinky; sexy is good enough. I mean, yes, you’re mildly disappointed, but hey. Okay, actually counterpoint: if it’s not kinky, it makes the teeth paragraph a little... odd. Like not unreasonable, but with a strange kind of emphasis.

Anyway I don’t think you need to give credit to this video but like... it helped

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vX3BZ_V_708

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Damn okay honestly the first draft is really fuckin good and you should have given yourself more credit. “I love the horrific intimacy of it all” fuuuu—

Honestly the relative strengths of each are fascinating, the synthesis is going to be a process.

[Swap TEETH2 and TONGUE; maybe even move TEETH2 below BREATH. The central conceit is that this is the journey of you being swallowed: the VOICE is distant and abstract, the SMILE is a little less abstract, the TEETH are closer; then you get sucked in through the LIPS, rolled around by the TONGUE, suffocate under the BREATH. And then you gotta make the VOICE work again.]

I return from doing the synthesis of the first half; yeah this was hella difficult, but I think it’s getting goooooooood.

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I love the voice. I love its power, its mystery, its miracle. A hundred tiny bits dancing furiously to mold the very atmosphere into complex shapes dense with meaning. I love secrets whispered, jeers spat, orders barked, responses stuttered, tunes hummed, and melodies sung. I love confessions of adoration, passionate exchanges, gentle reprimands. I love it because it is delightfully, painfully human, how we share with each other the depth of our intellect, and our depths where intellect holds no sway.

I love the smile. I love its versatility, its endless contradictions. I love smiles that glow and I love smiles insincere, I love wide grins that split the face in two and I love imperceptible upward tugs at the corners. I love smiles with lips pursed and smiles with roaring laughter. I love shit-eating grins that say “you have no clue what you're getting into” and cold smirks that say “but I do.” Most of all I love the transformation, that what was once a bristling declaration of fear, we have harnessed into the surest sign of our joy.

And I love the teeth. I love that they come in so many shapes and yet each has the same dread purpose. I love them when they are unnervingly sugar-white, flawlessly sharp, aligned with geometric precision. And I love when that perfection breaks; I love them stained, I love them chipped, I love them missing, I love them used. I love them soaked in the blood of their prey, bared in defense of their master, idly chomping and grinding, restless. Last sentence?

I love the lips. I love them soft and wet, inviting, as if behind them were not those pearly terrors. I love them slick with drool, anticipating our connection.  I love kisses pressed lightly onto bare skin, I love kisses mashed desperately together, demanding, needing more. I love them molding around me, sucking, squelching, savoring every inch. And I love them dry and cracked and chapped and in need of love, as we all so often are.

I love your teeth. I love their teasing nibble, a twisted subversion of their intention, a tantalizing threat. I love the dark marks they leave on my skin.

I love your tongue. I love that devious shapeshifter, soft and yet insistent. I love its invasive curiosity, I love it curling and twisting, I love it probing into my every nook and cranny. I love it soaking wet, I love its sharp laps and its long strokes, I love the trail it leaves behind. I love how it sees every bit of me, not the tiniest part unexplored. I love it gliding along ridges and I love it dipping into valleys and I love it peeking under overhangs and I love it sliding into crevices. And I love how you do it all to taste me, to hold me in that most intimate grasp.

I love your breath. I love its hot and suffocating damp, a premonition of more to come. I love when it hitches and when it rushes out at once. I love it gentle, even, relaxed, satisfied. I love deep breaths and I love shallow breaths. I love it irregular and jumpy. I love it on my lips, on my neck, on my— I love you gasping, I love you panting. I love you huffing and puffing and wheezing and snorting and shaking and gulping for air. I love its scent, uniquely yours, it smells like comfort, like love, like home. I think that each of these things individually is a good idea but together they fall flat

I love your voice. I love your grunts and your groans, I love your whimpers and your whines. And I love your moans, oh, I love your moans— I love your soft moans and loud moans and breathy moans and breathless moans. I love moans that come  resonate from the bottom of your chest. I love “oh yes~” and I love the words that don’t quite form, I love the “mmmm”s and the “hhhh”s and the “aaaa”s.  I love the sweet music you make, my dear, and I will do anything to hear your song one more time.

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Second Thoughts

(NOT SURE WHAT DO DO ABOUT ORDERING: tongue > teeth > smile SEEMS FORCED AS WRITTEN; saliva > voice IS KIND OF FUN BUT NOT FORCED; ALSO voice IS NATURAL TO HAVE AT THE END saliva > tongue IS NATURAL BUT I DON’T WANT saliva TO BE SO EARLY; KIND OF GIVES THE GAME AWAY)

(VERSES IN BOLD ARE ONES THAT I’M MORE OR LESS HAPPY WITH.)

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First Draft (written over many days, with many rounds of heavy edits)

I love the tongue, that devious shapeshifter, endlessly flexible, molding itself to caress every twist and hidden corner. I love its invasive playfulness, its soft precision as it feels out every angle; no secret is safe from its insistent, curious probing. I love how it savors me, knows my presence and delights in it, a quavering inhuman joy that knows only my shape, and rejoices in each new crevice. Malleable but dominant, it is an unnatural thrill; it is the illusion of danger.

I love the teeth, those cruel destroyers, merciless in their conquest. Customized machines of bone, each born of one dread purpose. I love the tooth that rips and tears, that cuts open veins and stains itself in its fruit. I love the tooth that silently grinds, bloodlessly white and endlessly deadly.  I love the horrific intimacy of it all, prey held closer than any friend, touched where no lover dared lay hand. Ruthless, the epitome of single-minded, there is no illusion here. [??]

And I love the smile, that many-faced beast. I love the warm glow of genuine joy, the invitation to a better future. I love the cold smirk of understanding. I love the nervous laugh, the instinctive baring of teeth: do not touch me, I am dangerous. I love the unrestrained, breathless gape of humor uninvited. I love the quiet upward tug of a compliment too brazen to indulge. I love the grin of revenge, of a plan coming together just so; these teeth are not for show...

I love the breath, that dead air a grim assurance of life in all its fury. I love its heavy damp, its passionate heat. I love its swampy smell, no two creatures alike, each scent a signature. I love the way it lingers, a gentle, directionless force perching lazily atop my skin. I love its sound, that guttural groan, that uncontrolled vibrato, that moaning timbre. It is an enveloping warmth, the enticing deep.

I love the lips, those juicy gates, guarding the kingdom inside. I love their (man honestly I don’t actually love the lips; how’s that for pyschoanalysis?) (I think I may feel differently about lips now; something about tenderness; it’s not a hard sexy thing but it’s a gatekeeper to the sexy)

I love the saliva, this omnipresent watery coating, somatic yet visceral. (I THINK YOU CAN ADD SOMETHING HERE? IDK JUST A FEELING) I love it thin and lubricating, a precursor of our nourishment’s acidic fate. I love it in thick and sticky, gooey gobs that are barely even a metaphor. Emerging in childlike anticipation, it is the physical manifestation of our delight.