#triaz

Azalea couldn’t suppress the grin that curved its way over her lips at his words and, for once, she found she didn’t want to suppress or hide just how happy she was in that moment. Content. Safe. “You do. Mean something to me, I mean. I’m not…um, i’m not sure exactly what just yet, but there’s definitely something there.” She had an idea, of course, of just what it was that was that he meant to her, but saying it aloud just yet felt forward, rushed. No, for now she’d keep it for herself and simply try to convey her feelings through her actions. For the moment she just nestled her head upon his shoulder, nose buried in the crook of his neck and finding solace in his scent, very being, in the warmth of his arms around her. For some inexplicable reason she was almost moved to tears as it dawned on her just how long it had been since she had felt truly just relaxed and calm, particularly with another person. “So it would seem. And a blinking computer screen simply fuels that fondness with the temptation and teasing of words. You’ve had me itching to see you again all week, Monsieur Noir.” A sweet little mewl almost wormed its way from her lips as he buried his face in her tresses and suddenly she was happy she’d kept things simple today…a simple spritz of homemade rose and jasmine water splashed on to her pulse points and spritz into her hair. “So, what shall we do now that neither of us are stuck on behind the internet, Sir?” Grey-blue eyes lifted to find his gaze and for a moment she wanted to lean up, just enough to close the couple of bare inches and taste his lips. But she stopped herself for fear it would be too forward.

Tristan: Tristan could not help but beam in silence, for it was just as true for him. She meant something to him already, her quirky charm melted his black heart and he found he wanted to be close to her, to get to know her, to share adventures. But in this moment for him it was about seeking solace - he sought comfort in her touch, in her being near him just as much as she seemed to mirror the feeling. “Oui -yes. There is jus’ somethin’ there from the split second you spoke to meh.” His voice was deeper then normal, a certain raspy quality made it soothing and lulling. Her words made him think of the posts they’d shared, the teasing, the playful torment, unsaid desires and some even said -it was entirely intoxicating. He chuckled, “Am I truly thaaat addictin’?” He inquired thoroughly amused while he pressed his lips against her forehead in the softest of kisses. His embrace around her tightened slightly as their gazes collided. “What ever we want.” He offered not even bothering to add his characteristic grin of devilry. Tristan was far too distracted with her, a hand drifted to her face fingers drifting along her jawline in the faintest of touches. “Did you like the kitten effects?” He inquired out of genuine curiosity.

Azalea: “Addicting is an understatement for what you are, Monsieur Noir…as creepy as that sounds. Christ on a cracker, I sound like a bloody stalker or something.” The blush that had claimed her cheeks flamed all the more and those ever-fluttering nervous fingers of hers started twisting in an anxious tick with the hem of her dress. Thoughts of how she much have been coming off, however, stalled with that gentle pressure of lips to her forehead and pulled her right back into that hazy lulling ease and a new flutter started in her stomach…one of anticipation and joy. “The tail and ears are absolutely perfect, Sir. I can’t even begin to thank you enough…they’re, um…heh, they’re actually in my purse, Sir. You did tell me to bring them along the next time I saw you, after all, and I strive to do what is asked of me.” Boldness was the name of the game around this wolf in gentleman’s clothing, and Azalea seemed to embrace it far easier than she realized she was capable of. Leaning up, she closed the distance between their faces and, with a brush as feathery and quick as a blink, she stole a small kiss from her Wolf before burying her face back into the crook of his neck. She had little doubt she could feel the heat of her blushing cheeks through his shirt. “That was my way of saying thank you, Monsieur Noir.” She murmured against the skin of his throat. “But anything we want? You realize that leaves so many options open, right? I, um…could I possibly make a suggestion?” Wide eyes found his again and she let a sheepish little smile greet him with her request. “There was mention of a bath…”

Tristan: He chuckled before whispering, “Stalk meh. I like it. Does that count as a kink?” His easy charm transitioned to his touch, his hand moving to hers, his fingers glided against hers meeting in a gentle caress slowly intertwining the warmth between them radiating with an intensity. “I am happy to hear this.” He whispered looking at her with mere puzzlement that she had actually remembered to bring the ears and tail along. “Good girl.” Tristan offered words of praise for her efforts that were making it hard not to cart her off to his bed and it was only intensified when she leaned up to steal that innocent kiss from his lips leaving the man slightly breathless. “Well now, that was a lovely sample of such a delectable duckie.” Truth be told it left him yearning for more, so much more especially when her breath danced across his throat in the faintest of whisps. “Oui -yes. It dost ‘ave a certain ring of adventure to it does it not? Mmmhmm what is it?” Those doe eyes and that smile pulled at his gumption and earned an all too quick nod from him before he jumped up to his feet with her in tow. Strong arms carrying her with ease as the French man made way to the Master bathroom chuckling infectiously.

Azalea: “I think it very well might count as a kink if you truly enjoy being stalked by me. Can ducks even stalk someone really?” The easy laughter that came as if was the most natural thing in the world around this man tumbled from her lips as she curled up all the more on his lap, seeking more of his warmth around her. “And yes, the kitten accessories were lovely…I had just one concern: The plug tail rather than a clip on, but i’m sure I could fix that.” Azalea shivered in his arms at the praise, the blessed and ever-strived-for ‘Good Girl’ finally drawing a pent up sweet sigh from her, “I hope that I can continue to make you happy then, Monsieur Noir, if it earns me a Good Girl. I must admit…it’s intoxicating to hear that.” She murmured, one of those feather-quick kisses finding his pulse instinctively, “You…I mean…I wouldn’t object if, um…if you wanted a larger taste of a duckie, Sir.” Fire, she was playing with fire, and it was only a matter of time before she got burned. Her past dictated that. But for now she was content to stand entranced by the dancing flame and, perhaps, touch it…see if it truly stung. Such deep thoughts, however, cascaded away on a surprised squeak followed by a fit of giggles as she was hoisted into the air and her arms twined around his neck. “If you drop me, so help me god. I will do something…very mean and nasty to you.” Still laughing as they entered the bathroom, she somehow managed to extract herself from Tristan’s arms so she could sit on the edge of the bath tub, watching him with a kittenish glee in her eyes. “Would you like me to prepare the bath, Sir, or would you like to do the honors?”

Tristan: “I must confess -I do. Therefore its a TNoirKink. Of course they can, come flyin’ at cha when you least expect it.” He could not help teasing her, it was far too much fun. Tristan felt her melt into him or was he melting into her, it was as if either one of them could just not get enough of each other. “Oh, you’ve … ne’er dabbled wit’ anal before?” The Frenchman asked point blank then smiled shaking his head in a gentle manner. “See that is easily remedied if you haven’t. Just go slow and introduce the sensation.” Her shiver and sigh did not go unnoticed by the keen man who paid attention to details -with relish. “I believe you could make meh happy most indefinitely so.” His tone was one of a serious nature but dropped to a masculine husk when he lips found the wild, primal tick of his pulse. “Good heavens, what kind of gent would I be if I dropped you?” He chimed, the dismal mood he’d been in hours before evaporating like a misty fog leaving the shores of a beach. havin gher slip from his arms he busied himself grabbing a couple huge, black towels and a bottle of bubbly soap that smelled of lavender and vanilla. Tristan turned to see her sitting on the side of his claw foot tub and his heart raced, he’d longed to see that very imagine for quite some time -it felt like centuries even though it had been merely a few days. “Be my guest ma cheri.” He rasped stepping to her side and pouring a thing line of soap into the tubs basin and sitting the towels on a nearby stool that was close by.

Tristan: “Ladies first~” The devilish Wolf rumbled gesturing to her form and nearly losing his cool at the thought that she’d be naked immersed in a tub with him in only a few moments time. Tristan gave her a wicked wink and then slowly turned his back on her, allowing her a dash of privacy to disrobe.

Azalea: “I’ve not.” She confirmed quietly, dipping her head with small awkward shrug. “After my one experience with sex and stuff, exploring more didn’t really hold an interest for me, so I didn’t try. But…” Azalea finally found his eyes, her own twinkling with nervous innocence, “I think times, they are a’changin’.” There, that was the hint, the unspoken but alluded to permission for him to try something more with her if he wanted at some point, despite the inkling of fear that still, and probably forever would, nag at the back of her head. But today wasn’t about reminiscing about the past and how it fucked up her present. Today was about enjoying the company and actions of this man in front of her and making new memories. “I like watching the bubbles form…” She mused lightly, fingers trailing int he running water as a faint smile touched her lips, “I had a foster brother tell me once that it was a magic trick, that the liquid soap was turning to bubbles by magic.” A melodic little laugh echoed around the bathroom at the silly little memory until he issued the time to start disrobing. At least he had the politeness to turn his back on her for a moment. It took away the vague moment of panic that rushed into her veins when she thought of him seeing her bared, of seeing her scars, of asking questions. Quickly slipping out of her dress and undergarments, she folded them neatly and set them aside before stepping into the steaming water and froth of bubbles, sinking low into the tub with a contented sigh. “You’ve no idea how long it’s been since i’ve been in a bathtub that wasn’t like being in a tiny box. My apartment’s tub is a joke…even tiny old me can’t stretch my legs out in it.” Azalea sank lower into the tub, propping her arms on the edge of the tub and letting her chin rest there so she could regard him. “Are you going to join me, Monsieur Loup?”

Tristan: “Do not fret, easily remedied.” He offered in a soothing tone moving to light several candles and dimming the lights in the luxuriously elaborate bathroom. It was very much a direct reflection of its Master, dark with a sense of mystery and macabre. Candelabras and black lacquered furniture added to the ambiance, toying with sense in a delightful way.”Change is good.” Tristan replied with an almost sweet smile hoping that positive changes were set on the horizon for them both. “Its hypnotic and relaxing. Jus’ being around water is for meh and I must admit. Water is s kink for me.” Tristan reached for a sea sponge, and an elaborate bottle of oil before he replied to her musings. “Thats a lovely memory to share.”

Tristan: He found himself listening intently, the sound of her clothing slipping off, bare feet, and water enveloping her. Tristan closed his eyes, he could see the entire thing in his mind and his head tilted back slightly as he lost himself in a bit of his own fantasy. Her voice was the only thing that yanked him back to reality and the tall man turned slowly drinking in the sight before him. His duckie, submerged in a plethora of frothy bubbles and completely naked under them it was nearly enough to make a man keel over. Her question, oh god her question. He wanted this, he wanted this so badly and before his lips could even answer her his nimble fingers were already trailing down his button down shirt unfastening with a swift pace. Tristan held her gaze, his greyish-green eyes calm as he opened his shirt, removing it and the black undershirt he had on. Bare chested he stood before her. “Oui -yes. I would not have it any other way.” He rumbled his voice dropping an octave and going incredibly deep as he began to kick of his wing tips, fingers fumbling with his belt, and silver sipper to his slacks.

Azalea: Azalea swallowed hard, fiddling with a bubble absently. “Change is good, but difficult to navigate and know you’re not making the wrong steps. However, I think i’ve made well enough choices thus far in the process.” A pointed looked was shot at him, he who represented one such choice that she was beginning to think had been the epitome of a good idea, the best decision she had made since coming to New York. A delicate brow arched at his confession about water, her fingers ceasing their waving through the bubbles to pick up a handful of water, watching it almost mesmerized as it trailed through her fingers. “I couldn’t agree more. One foster mom called me a fish once, saying I was always in the water. And it was true. I’ve always been drawn to water, for as long as I can remember.” It was her turn to experience his tantalizing strip tease. But she was under a severe disadvantage…had she been able to look away perhaps she could have kept herself in check, but as soon as the shirt came off and his beautifully inked upper body was revealed to her she felt her chest tighten, her heart pattering a rapid tattoo as she tried to will herself to look away out of the sake of modesty, but she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t peel her eyes away from the man in front of her. What’s more, she wanted to touch. “Let me help?” Ever so lightly, she brushed his fumbling hands away, digits shaking nervously as she finished what he’d started, undoing the button of his trousers and slipping dow the zipper. Doe eyes finding his and holding his gaze…as well as her breath…while her hands trailed to his hips, urging the pants down his legs along with anything else worn beneath. She was almost afraid to look down. She couldn’t look down, not yet, instead she kept her gaze solely focused on his eyes as the last shreds of his clothing came to pool at his feet. “

Tristan: “Life is ne’er that easy and change can sometimes turn out to be liberating in away.” Tristan met that glance with an unwavering gaze, strong and steadfast in his demeanor like a true Master should always be. “I am happy to hear that.” He really was, water always got to him whether in a soothing manner or sensual it always seemed to press his hot buttons, so naturally when she suggested a bath he nearly had to kick start his heart. Tristan had an aura, a hypnotic pull that seemed to work double time on the lass staring at him, wide eyed and a loss for words as he peeled off layers of clothing in front of her with not an ounce of bashfulness. Her inquiry and offer for help was entirely unexpected and he balked for a moment. The idea of having her hand or finger brush up certain parts of his anatomy right int his very moment would send this entire venture down a spiraling path of consuming heat that would burn them both with pleasure. Tristan knew if she looked down and saw how aroused he was, saw every inch he had to offer along with his filling girth it would be all over. So he reached for her chin, tipped his head low and met her lips in a simmering kiss distracting her while he moved into the water and sunk into the bubbles. The kiss however was not without its effect it earned a low groan to reverberate through the man before he separated himself from what tasted like heaven and leaned into the opposite side of the tub. His arms resting along either side, the Frenchman with ink over every inch of his body sunk into the masses of bubbles and sighed loudly with pleasure. A chuckle slipped from him and he reached for something hidden on a shelf from her view. “Almost forgot somethin’.” He produced a yellow rubber ducky and sent it drifting her way with a cheeky smile.

Azalea: "Liberating...right..." That's all she wanted, truly; freedom from the past, freedom from her problem, freedom from her own mind holding her back from truly living and truly tasting all that life had to offer. She desperately needed liberation from her insecurities and inhibitions, and for some inexplicable reason she felt this man had the ability to help her do just that, to guide her through the steps to reclaiming herself. But now was too soon to be thinking that, surely, so she kept the opinion to herself, instead content to watch his inked body come into view bit by bit. That was, until his claimed her lips and she was momentarily left breathless. Of course she'd been kissed, who hadn't by their early twenties? Her previous experience with kisses, though, had come from none other than David, the dreaded ex and predator who sought pleasure for himself and himself alone. He'd been rough with his lips, sloppy and unyielding and teeth had knicked her lips on more than one occasion. This, however...this was different, entirely so. And thoroughly distracting enough to keep her eyes shuttered and her mind occupied while Tristan slipped easily into the water, shrouding his lower half from view, from the thing that might have been an ending point for Azalea had she seen just how perked he was for her. When he parted from her and leaned back along the opposite side of the massive tub she nearly pouted, doe eyes ready to beg for another taste of his lips. That was, until a little yellow ducky was sent swimming toward her, and she completely lost it. "You are perfection, you know that?" She giggled, the fit of laughing taking her under the water completely as she sank below the surface to collect herself. Once she was certain she could speak without snorting, she emerged again, brushing soaked hair back from her face as she reached for the little toy and held it up for inspection, still grinning and murmuring, "Rubber ducky, you're the one...Hm, Sir, do I make bath tub lots of fun?"

Tristan: "Perfection? I truly doubt that, I am a flawed man." He replied in an honest tone watching her reaction and becoming thoroughly pleased with seeing her happy. And then it happened, she submerged herself under the water, Tristan reached for himself covering certain parts of himself from curious eyes should they open underwater to take a peak. He swallowed hard when she resurfaced and snickered at her. "You ask a question to an answer you already know petit caneton." He replied cooly reaching under the warm, sudsy water until he found her foot. With a smile he brought it closer, his hands began to roll and massage with expert care. Triistan Noir was damn good with his hands and she was just about to figure that out during this little sudsy adventure. He rolled his knuckles in her arch, the feet of a dancer were tense he discovered kneading out pressure and strain. "Relax." He murmured moving to the other foot and repeating the actions until she was putty in his hands.

Azalea: "There's perfection in one's flaws, Sir." She countered, "You're perfect just the way you are , flaws and all, and i'll hear nothing to the contrary." The little voice in the back of her head called her a hypocrite, but she pushed it aside. She could live in blissful ignorance that her words of wisdom applied to her as well. But the somber little moment, as well as her own self-worth questions, spirited away with her mirthful reaction to the duck and the subsequent response to the question she'd posed. "Perhaps I just wanted to hear it aloud, Monsieur Noir." She winked...Azalea Hawthorne, for the first time in her twenty-one years, had winked at a guy. Christ, she felt like a walking talking quacking cliche, a trope from a romance movie, and for a moment she rose her hands to palm her face. Azalea emerged from her self-made blindfold, though, as nimble hands found her feet and started a process of what Azalea could only call pure-fucking-magic. "Christ on a cracker, you've done this before, haven't you? Still... you sure you want to be touching gross blistered dancer feet?" Her giggles came, but slowly subsided into softer sounds, little sighs as her body visibly relaxed along with the muscles in her feet. She was in safe hands, and that thought radiated through her, drawing her to finally lean back and relax against her end of the tub, eyes shuttering closed. "That feels fantastic, Sir. So wonderful..." And through the haze of relaxing ease she felt something else, a tingling in the pit of her stomach wanting more. Wanting another taste of his lips, of wanting--something she couldn't quite put her finger on.

Tristan: "Is there now?" He inquired in a teasing tone of voice as she inflated his ego with compliments. "Merci -thank you. You flatter meh so." The moment she took as if to internalize her thoughts was a marker to the Frenchman. Proceed slowly and with caution, for he could feel undertows that had yet to be discovered drifting off of her. "Please, allow meh t' humor you then. Yes, duckie you make bath time fun." His voice sang the words in a light hearted manner, the silliness between them completely out of the ordinary but it was fun and that was all that mattered. Tristan watched her with a tilt of his head as she clasped her face after winking at him, it was a harmless flirtation but the gist he garnered from it was that it was also a first. "You are positively sweet in your mannerisms." He added for effect just before she plummeted into a pool of pleasure from a luxurious foot rub. Tristan nodded his head slightly, "Uh yeah I 'ave a time or twice. Your feet are the farthest thing from gross they are actually rather cute. However I did not plan on lingering in one place for too long." The mans voice dropped and went deep and gravelly, desire painting his words with unsaid passion. "Good girls get spoiled. That is how I treat my subbies 'n case you're wonderin'." He dropped that hint like a affection bomb just before his hand moved higher to her calf muscle. Again skilled hands massaged with long languid stokes right up her leg, only to drop back down while rubbing in circular patterns. All the while his eyes sought hers as he watched her relax and slip into a slow grip of lust. "Look at meh~" He rumbled wanting her eyes on him as he sat up and moved forward slightly, his hand grazing over the top of her toned thigh in the faintest, feather light caress.

Azalea: "I assure you it's not flattery, Sir, not in the slightest. It's simply the honest truth." She gave a small shrug, the point made and her own thoughts about turning the same advice on herself not particularly something she wanted to contemplate at the moment. No, at this moment she as far too distracted with the lovely little massage Tristan had been so gracious as to bestow upon her, her mind easing with her body and all worries melted away under the expert touch of his hands on her soap-slicked skin. "Subbies?" She queried curiously, one eye opening to regard him across the tub's expanse, "So you treat random young ducks who find their way into your bath the same way as you'd treat a cherished submissive, hm? I fee honored..." She giggled before settling back again. The calf massage was even more delectable, and she found herself comfortably distracted in the easy movements until his voice interrupted her blank thoughts...and questing hands wandered ever so lightly to the tops of her thighs. She stiffened, only slightly but noticeably. No, not again...she wouldn't freak out with him again. He wasn't David, he wasn't going to hurt her. But it was habit, reflex. "Monsieur Noir..." It was a small plea, a mix of uncertainty and heated want warring in her tone. Obediently, though, her gaze locked with his and she sat up a little straighter to counter his move forward. Slowly, a trembling hand moved up with slowly building resolve to find his own, placing it on her upper thigh in a gentle urging, "Please?"

Tristan: "Not exactly, my subbie would be far too spoiled and it may all go to her head. Sure, I lavish attention on others but there is none that would get it more then -my- subbie." Tristan spoke and kept up with his smooth strokes along her limber legs that seemed to never end. It made him think what it would be like to have them wrapped around his waist while she was pressed against a wall? What would those legs feel like clenching around his head if he were lapping at her clit like a parched man? As his hand made its assent his mind spun and became cloudy with lust, it was then he realized how much he wanted -her- Tristan's heart flip flopped as he moved forward his name leaving her lips in a innocent plea made his left hand trail over her skin only to trail his fingers along her delicate jawline. He looked into her eyes, his own green pools awash with yearning while he moved his thumb to glide over the lush pillow of he lower lip. Slow, careful the touch warming her lips to what was to come next it was in that moment that he heard 'please' and felt her hand meet his and that was it. The Frenchman's face hovered closer to hers, his thumb replaced by his warm lips in an ardent and deeply passionate kiss. He groaned into it as his body lite with the crackle of wild fire, pooling in his groin and causing him to nudge her lips apart with his own in the gentlest of manners. Tristan slowly licked her lip with his tongue, flickering it across the sweetest sin he'd tasted in a very, very long time before he spoke. "Azalea, I am going t' touch you ... here..." He clasped her hand and directed it higher, until they both slipped between her thighs and arrived at her mound. Tristan bite his lip looking at her face during the moment of contact to find....

Azalea: "You'd spoil her rotten, then?" Azalea queried with a cheeky little smile. "You'd best be on spot and ready to punish her, then, should it go too much to her head. A greedy submissive is an ungrateful submissive, and most certainly requires correction. That said, -your- subbie sounds as if they'll be terribly cared for. I can only hope I find such a beautiful arrangement for myself one day." Her own hint was dropped with mist-colored eyes lowering shyly to watch the water turn milky as the bubbled started to pop and melt. She was being too forward, she knew it, but it felt right...safe...to do so. Even now, when her limbs tensed and her heart started a nervous pitter-patter under the touch of his hand tracing her jaw, her lips, she felt safe. Certainly the nagging at the back of her mind was there, the habitual ticks of stiffening should she need to escape were there, but she wanted this. So very much. Her own lips tentatively mirrored his movements, allowing his tongue passage and her own experimentally dancing with his. All the while her free hand traced up his back, gliding easily over beautiful inked skin until her fingers could run up the back of his neck and into is mane of black hair. All was wright with the world. Until his hand guided hers upwards still to the apex of her thighs. His words were met with a silent tight-lipped nod of her head in permission, her entire being trembling beneath to touch. She was frightened, terribly so, not of the touch itself but of herself...of worrying if she'd panic again. Her mind wanted to rebel, to shrink away and hide in a safe ball far away from questing hands and devilish eyes, but she refrained. Instead, as his gaze found hers, he would find a faint hesitant but certainly there smile etching onto her lips as she gave him a brief nod, "You can keep going, Monsieur Noir. I-I, um...I -want- you to keep going. Please..." The girl leaned up then, pressing her lips to his with a desperate need, a need to feel him, a need for a distraction, and, most importantly, a need for him to continue. "I want you so much it hurts..." She murmured against his lips.

Tristan: "Very much so because isn't that what its all about give and take, the perfect balance? Should she act out of line and anger me she shall receive my wrath. Of which is truly unpredictable at best." Tristan could not help that feeling in the pit of his stomach, an ache an emptiness that needed to be filled. "I hope thaat yah do Azalea, for you truly deserve it lil canetone." Her kiss seemed to be reacting to him every move forward she would step back like a beautiful dance, a rhythm of coming and going that was truly tantalizing to him. When he hand trailed up his back it felt like fire inching up his skin, it was a blissful burn that this little duck had on the Wolf. The sensation of her tiny fingers sinking into his lushly thick, black hair ushered in a loud groan of pleasure from the Frenchman, tingles making his muscles tense and release with the electricity between them. Her nod of permission was received before he moved any further, once given Tristan took a leisurely pace with the precious gem in front of him. Eyes meeting, souls stirring and smiles shared before she spoke and nearly throttled him into hyper drive with her confession. Tristan panted before his lips crashed against hers, his kiss was greedy but his hand moved with hers in a slow pace, gliding along her slit until her lips were starting to swell for him. "Dost your pussy yearn for my touch? Do you quiver for meh?" His voice was raspy and rich, his accent deepening more then usual.

Azalea: "Absolutely. Balance is key, if you ask me, to any relationship...not just within a Dominance and submission aspect, but perhaps to a greatest extent in that particular aspect. I can only hope I never rile your wrath, Monsieur Noir." Her own pang of longing sounded in the pit of her stomach and she took a moment to chew over his words before nodding very slowly, hopeful eyes finding his, "Hopefully i'll find that one day. Or maybe it's within my grasp already...maybe..." Her own hint was dropped this time, accompanied by her fiercely blushing and bowing her head, only to give way to complete distraction with his attentions to her. This was lust, but more; Certainly there was the unbridled passion but there was something else, a connection that one couldn't quite put their finger on but was most certainly there in droves between the two. The hand in his hair urged his lips harder against her own, her heart threatening to burst forth from the cage of her ribs. Tiny little moans of wanting fell against his lips from the writing girl, her body reacting to his touch...her touch, rather, with the aid of his...though her mind still wanted to rebel. Muscles tense, wanting to retreat, but she held firm. Courage, Azalea, she chided herself. And courage she showed in slipping her hand out from beneath his own, turning to guiding his touch against her most sensitive spots instead of his guiding her. "Of course it does, can't you feel that evidence, Monsieur Noir? It aches for your attentions, Sir, so badly. So very badly. Oh God--" Her lips pulled away from the kiss, her teeth nibbling at her bottom lip as her eyes shuttered when she guided his nimble fingers over her clit just so. "Fuck." She breathed, pressing her face into the crook of his neck and, out of instinct, capturing that sensitive curve of neck between her teeth in a mild bite mainly to stifle her little whimpers. Meanwhile, the hand that hand been guiding him left him to his own expert devices and started an experimental trail up his thigh beneath the water.

Tristan: "I hope you never do either Azalea, for punishment shall be swift and brutal." His words were light but there was an underlying warning to them that he was not the man she should trifle with. "And if its within your grasp are you going to take it lil one?" He teased with a lecherous smirk that spoke volumes to where his mind wandered. Tristan felt her hand pull him to her even more, it was a signal that she wanted this just as badly as he did, that ache needed to be slaked between them. Her little moans, her little hot breaths toyed with his mind as his heart hammered away and the moment his hand was pressed against her pussy lips he dallied no longer and began to rub her little nub with circles, and sensual flourishes from the tips of his fingers. His kiss was edging towards feverish until she broke the connection, rubbing her clit he ventured to mouthing her neck on the opposite side of where she nibbled on his skin. He sucked greedily, he'd wanted the taste of her skin against his tongue for what seemed like an eternity. Tristan groaned loudly as his hand worked up a frenzy of friction against her pussy lips, he lavished her neck with kisses and buried his face in her hair taking in deep breaths of her but that was all before he felt an all too curious hand snake up his thigh. His eyes fluttered wide, "Its within your grasp duckie, take it."

Azalea: "And what could one expect from a Noir punishment, I have to wonder?" She queried with a cheeky little raise of a brow until he continued, eyes lowering shyly to watch the popping bubbles around them, "Whether or not it's within my grasp is not the issue, Sir. It's not been offered to me, not in so many words. That's all. However, were it offered to me, i'd certainly be amenable to the idea, I think." The need was real, tangible, and puppeteering her hesitant, and not so hesitant in the heat of the moment, actions. It's what spurred her to tighten that hand into his hair, balling it within a small fist to draw his kisses deeper; It's was drove her hips to circle against his questing fingers, her desire pooling betwixt her thighs and slicking the way for him beneath the water; It's what brought her biting teeth away from his skin to catch his gaze as her own adventurous hand shifted higher, "You only have to ask me once, Sir. I'm happy to oblige..." Azalea gauged his reaction as sweetly trembling finger tips grazed up bottom length of his erection. Surprise lit her eyes as that experimenting hand slowly wrapped around him, drawing a worried little whimper from her throat. "My god..." It was vaguely frightening size and strength cloaked in hot velvet as her hand traveled his cock's length a few times. She'd never felt anything like it, nor had she wanted to until now...until it was a giving back of pleasure to the man who seemed to be able to find all of her buttons. It was her turn now to seek out his. "LIke this, Sir?"

Tristan: "You really never know. It could be anythin'..." He chose to be vague, mystery was all part of his game in reality. Punishments tended to vary on the level of said discretion and his mood. "The offer is there and you know it. It just has to mature -like a good wine." His words held so much promise in a darkly sinful way as the man shifted his body closer to hers. Tristan tensed hard, like a bowstring his body gone completely rigid while Azalea's tentative fingers explored him for the first time. The length of his erect shaft was impressive clearly from the look on her face, while his pulsing girth seemed to have earned that expression of awe that her words quickly painted. He melted like a pat of butter while her hand slid over his prick a few times, his eyes went heavy with lust, the pleasure he felt -immense. "Oui -yes~" Tristan whispered moving his mouth to her earlobe and sucking softly. "Slightly quicker." He rumbled leaning over her in the bath tub, his body hovered over hers in the hot water brushing against her bare flesh here and there making him groan into her ear. His free hand moved to her waist grazing over the swell of her hips only to travel higher, moving along the toned muscles of her stomach in a sensual manner before he moved north and cupped a breast as if claiming a treasure.

Azalea: "I believe i'm coming to like your wines, Monsieur...both the literal and metaphorical." Even his lips were a vice like the alcohol in the very wine he spoke of and Azalea lifted for another taste, drinking eagerly of him as her lips curled into a smile. Those sounds, the heavy breaths, the stiffening of his muscles and...other things...sent a thrill down Azalea's spine, a heady drunkenness on lust and the welcome surprise that she could have as much effect on him as he had on her. In answer her hand moved more swiftly, quickening her stroking as her free hand raked its nails down his back before coming to cling for dear life around his waist. "You as well--faster, please..." The request was whimpered, needy and urgent as she shuddered under the breath brushing her ear. With one hand making quick work of her most demanding need and the other adding the sweet sensation upon her breast Azalea feared she would crumble beneath him. Something was building, and fast; A familiar enough sensation, but with an undercurrent that promised far more than what she'd been able to give herself over the years. Her own hand moved more in response, thumb brushing over the head of him much the way he worked her clit. "Fuck, Sir--i'm not sure how much longer I can hold it together if you keep that up. As if holding on to the last shreds of her composure, on long trim leg wrapped around his, pulling his body all more flush with her own. She needed the contact, the warmth of his skin against hers.

Tristan: "Drunk on Noir eh?" He questioned in a dazed and yet cheeky manner, for he was just as intoxicated with her as she was with him. Her confession, her needy pleas, the way she pulled him to her flipped the man into overdrive. Swiftly he wrapped his arms around her bringing her long legs around his waist. This move sent sudsy water sloshing over the bathtubs side. Tristan crushed his lips to hers in a sinful burn, consuming the plump sweetness against his mouth in a overzealous manner. His hand rubbed against her now swollen pussy lips until the man moved his fingers along her slit, urgently seeking entrance and groaning out loud as soon as he found it. Tristan slipped one finger inside her stroking her walls in a wicked manner before he increased the penetration with two fingers. "Azalea. Be a good girl and cum." He rumbled moving his lips from hers only to claim her neck with his hot mouth, burning and singing wild fires upon her pale flesh with his tongue. The muscles in his arm strained as he sent his fingers up into her core in a rapid succession, while his thumb circled her clit. He was determined to get her off to see her shatter in his arms, to feel it, to witness it, savor it -he wanted it all. His free hand found her pink nipple and pinched it hard looking up into the young women's eyes getting finger fucked by the Frenchman. "Shatter for meh~"

Azalea: "Entirely sloshed on Noir," She corrected softly, her subsequent giggle stolen by a low moan as he pulled her closer. Passion spread like wildfire and it seemed the two couldn't contain themselves...not that they truly wanted to in any case. Legs locked at the ankles around him, her hips developed a mind of their own, riding his rubbing hand with a need to sharp and true that she almost didn't notice when a digit, and then two, slipped into her. Almost. The realization occurred to her as she felt them insistently intruding, seeking the most sensitive of nerves within her folds. A sudden shock of memories past made her pull away from the ravaging of lips, body going rigid in an overwhelming catch-22 that she couldn't seem to process. Fear and panic infused into every fiber of her being, and yet she still stood poised on the brink of breaking for him; Pleasure and terror in one truly too much moment. "Sir..." She pleaded for him to understand, her voice cracking in panic, "I don't want--Oh..." Her breath came more swiftly and she had to swallow her words in order to catch her breath. At his words she broke entirely. Her body reacted to that powerful request and she came on a cry, shouting out into the empty air as her body shook for him. The girl was a writhing mess under his touch, back arched with one hand's fingers digging into his shoulder and the other gripping to his cock with fervor. She was in pieces. Completely.

Tristan: Her words cracked him up,but the mood between them quickly moved to a more sultry note. With his two fingers buried in her pussy to the quivering hilt Tristan was drowning in her presence. Every breath, every moan took him to another level of ecstasy only to come crashing into a wall, she was fighting him? She hesitated? Why? It all happened so fats he had hardly any time to process when all of the sudden she surrendered to him and came, probably the hardest shad had ever -to date. The way her pussy gripped his fingers, clenching and gripping in conjunction with her hand made that all too familiar pressure shot up like a rocket. The cry seemingly wretched from her soup made him clutch onto her as he watched her arch and shatter beautifully in his arms. It was exquisite and pulled him down in an undertow as he pulsed and exploded into her hand. Tristan whispered, "Good girl. -my- good girl whom listens so well." The Frenchman wrapped his arms around her pulling their naked bodies together while they each caught hot breaths that seemed like one breath between two people.

Azalea: For the longest stretch of time Azalea Hawthorne was positively euphoric, light and floating, writhing beneath Tristan's touch in such a pleasure that was almost painful; The high she rode was like none other she'd ever experienced and she hovered at the the peak, terrified she'd fall to her end should she let go of Tristan. Thus, her free hand clung tighter, hanging on to him as if she'd simply fall away into oblivion should she let go. It was in that moment that she was acutely aware of his own surrender to the pull of desire and felt him climax under her hand. That was enough to set her on another round of keening ripples of pleasure, a second smaller orgasm claiming her and, by the end of it, leaving her in a state of post-orgasmic coma, happy to fall upon the chest of her partner, her Sir, and cling. Her praised her, kind words of approval that certainly did send a thrill of pride down her spine. But also shame. Old demons had a habit of laying in wait until the opportune time to collect their pound of flesh, and they chose that moment to torment Azalea. As she came down from the high of their moment, tears started to prick at her eyes and she wast trembling anew, nuzzling her face into Tristan's chest in hopes that her tears would just mix with the bath water and they would go unnoticed.

Tristan: Tristan held her close not wanting to let go. They finally showed each other just how much they were letting the other person get to them. It truly was a moment of vulnerabilty and the FrenchMan remained steady and true. His hands drifted over her naked body, calming and soothing caresses were now the norm. Lips that crushed, now planted the tenderest of kisses a top her shoulders and neck. "Duckie...." His voice broke through a long moment of silence. "Your pleasure was beyond anything I could have imagined. It ... it was beautiful to behold and I can only hope t' see more of you my sweet. You amaze meh every time I turn around and I cannot seem t' get enough of yah." Tristan's hands found her face, trailing his finger along her jawline, lifting her chin to meet his mossy hued gaze to ind...

Tristan: *find

Azalea: It was a quiet moment, sweet and gentle and as soothing as one would expect from a romance movie's climactic aftermath. Azalea, however much she enjoyed it and however much she wanted to be able to smile and fall into idle chit chat and private giggles, couldn't ease up in that moment. God damn it...in that moment as she lay sated and truly happy alongside her...for lack of a better word...lover, she cursed David and everything he and his band of misfits had done not only to her body, but her psyche. "Thank you, Monsieur Noir--" She began, fighting to keep her voice composed despite the panic attack creeping into her bones. Truly his words meant the world to her, but old ghosts... "I can't than you enough, Sir, and I have to agree vehemently. I want nothing more than to keep experiencing such things with you and more, to try it all, as it were, but--" The girl trailed off as he brought her face up to meet his gaze and a new wash of shame drew over her. He'd think she was upset because of him, because of what they'd done. Hardly the case. "But," She continued softly, bringing up a shaking hand to swipe the tears from her cheeks, "You don't really want me to hang about. Broken things aren't terribly fun to keep around, Monsieur, and I wouldn't want to ruin your fun." There it was, a glimpse of the truth, the truth of how very much she hated herself and how broken she truly was, how many pieces she was in precisely thanks to David and that night six years ago. "I'm sorry, i'm not crying because of you, I promise."

Tristan: "But...?" His brow knitted together in grave concern, what was it she was holding something back from him he could feel it in his bones and whatever it was it was big. Her eyes confirmed his theory, tears welling up in the corners threatening to tumble down the sweet creatures cheeks in a torrential downfall. The Frenchman's heart skipped a beat while a large thumb wipped one tear away before she could. "Azalea...I can feel there is something you're hiding from me. The true reason why you're in such a state after sharing such an intimate moment wit' meh. But, I am not going to push you nor pry. I 'ave to trust that you will tell me what it is 'n time and we can work together on this matter for I do not see something broken before my eyes." Tristan slinked an arm around her waist pulling her on top of him as he sat back where he first had resided, the only difference she know lay on top of his fully stretched out body, cradled in his arms as he pressed a kiss to her forehead and whispered. "I see my Azalea, my duckie and I am fuckin' keepin' er."

Azalea: The 'but' of the matter was left unsaid as she pulled her chin out of his grasp, letting her head nestle into the crook of his neck where just moments ago he's been biting to stifle her cries of pleasure. She kissed the marks now, lightly as if in apology, tears anointing the flesh she'd so recently adorned with adoration. From her hiding place against his shoulder, face bowed to he couldn't see the stream of tears though she knew he already knew they were there, she gave a small shrug as he spoke, letting him maneuver her. "Your Azalea is a fixer upper in the worst way...you sure you want to go through the time and trouble?" She sniffed, asking quietly with her voice muffled into his skin, "You're sure you don't want to just toss away this broken toy and start fresh with someone who's not so shattered?" Azalea wouldn't blame him if he said yes, that he wanted the easy route. She had made herself believe over the years that that was the only answer she could expect. After a shaky breath, she lifted her face and drew up the courage to look him in the eye. "I suffer some symptoms of PTSD," She started barely above a whisper as a finger absently traced a tattoo on his chest, something for her nervously fidgeting digits to occupy themselves with, "Because six years ago I was attacked by the only man i've let into my life in any true capacity ever...He and his friends took me into an alley and...well, it wasn't a good scenario. And it scarred me in more ways than one."

Tristan: Tristan could feel the tingle along his flesh where she'd either bitten or scratched in her most elated movement and it mattered not to him, those were badges he wore proudly. A lovers token if you will, his own masochistic side glimmering slightly. "Yes, yes I do." He answered in a straightforward manner and added. "For no one has captivated my soul so quickly as you 'ave Azalea -toys are replaceable but you are not. Not to meh 'n the slightest." the Frenchman heard her shaky breath, she was about to divulge something he knew it -and there it was. Like a bomb, dropped with devastation as the mans heart broke into a million pieces. His precious little girl had been treated in the most inhumane way, a sadness drifted to his features but he knew he had to remain strong, to guide her through the fray of coping, and most importantly moving on with her life. "I...I am truly sorry that that happened t' you Azalea. I understand were you are coming from now and I appreciate you sharing something so important about you with meh." His arm held onto seemingly tighter while he spoke, voice crackling with raw emotion. "You are mine now. I will take care of you -if you allow meh to."

Azalea: A tiny pinprick of blood rested on the bite mark she'd made earlier, a small spot where one of her canines had struck with just a little too much enthusiasm. It must sting, she thought idly as her finger swiped the droplet up and held the red smear up for Tristan to see, a fraction of a tiny smile finding its way to her lips. "Looks like a broke you, too," She said with a sad little laugh, "See, i'm not good. I even hurt you when I don't mean to." Her giggles turned to fresh tears as he spoke, those these tears held a tinge of something new...hope. Hope that he truly meant what he said. Hope that perhaps there was the option of healing from her past and starting fresh. "In all honesty, this toy doesn't want to be replaced, Sir; She just doesn't think herself worthy of being played with and cherished. But..." She bit her lip curling closer into Tristan's warm body and wrapping her own arms around him, "She's willing to give it a shot. Maybe. For a certain Wolf in gentleman's clothing." A somber smile touched her features as she found his gaze once more, brushing a damp lock of hair out of his eyes, "I'd like that, Monsieur Noir. To be taken care of...if you'll let me take care of you in turn."

Tristan: he did not even feel the mark that had drew blood as she raised her finger to display the little bit of him she took with her. Tristan's skin was not exactly the most sensitive at times, all the ink work saw to that and in other areas he was hyper sensitive. A smile at the droplet before he chimed. "You really did want a taste of meh didn't you." He raised his index finger and tapped it on her nose in an overly affectionate tease. "Please, Azalea. It takes more then a bite during a very,very intense orgasm to hurt me." He gave her a charming smile and shook his head 'no' "You see Azalea, it is not for you to decide whether you are worthy or not for I have already deemed you worthy otherwise we would not even be having this conversation." The Frenchman felt her arms around him, felt her melting into him, becoming one. Once their eyes met again Tristan's adoration for her was very apparent as he gave her one of his doting smiles before taking her hand in his and interlacing their fingers. He then held her hand up in the air for the both of the to see as he spoke. "Azalea you make meh feel like I 'ave been locked outta heaven for too long...I want to be there for you and I would expect you would be there for meh. This is the perfect balance of give and take. This is what I am lookin' for."

Azalea: "Apparently so." A small broken little laugh wheedled its way from her lips, nose wrinkling under the playful tap. It was dissipating...the panic attack; She could feel the familiar easing in her muscles, the laboring breaths coming in more smooth draws, her hammering heart slowing to a more steady pace. His encouragement helped fight it off. "I'm not trying to discredit you, Monsieur Noir, believe me...I just can't fathom how anyone would find someone like me worthy. I've grown up hearing everything to the contrary, and i'm curious what makes this situation different, what i've done to make it seem as if i'm worthy of anything other than being tossed away for something better." An exhausted, both physically and mentally, Azalea curled closer against Tristan's chest, needing to feed off of his strength, his sureness, that confidence that he seemed to wear like a well-tailored suit. "It's what i've been looking for to...it's what i've wanted. No, what I needed. You make me feel as if I can actually free myself from my past and, maybe, for once, be happy with myself and with my life. God, how Hallmark cheesy does that sound?"

Tristan: "So you require a justification for meh actions as it were?" Tristan gave he a sideways glance and then stiffled a snicker of amusement. "Beacuse I can feel it. There is something there Azalea. A connection that ... perhaps others spend a lifetime seeking and I may have just become a lucky bastard and found it. That deeper connection that poets spout off about when the are writing down their lovelorn words at sixx o'clock in the morning." The Frenchman paused when she curled up on him almost in a feline manner, his fingers moved with a mind of their own as they drifted down the long, sweeping curves of her back in the most tenderest of touches. Listening to her words his lips turned up in a thoughtful smile, here they were in the middle of a warm sudsy bath baring their souls to one another and they had not even slept together. The intensity between the couple was just that deep. Tristan fought the urge to press on further to let her know he was willing to officially make her ... his. There would be another time and place for it, for now he was content to just -be- with her. "Its perfectly cheesy t' meh. We can be perfectly cheesy together 'n this moment."

Azalea: "I don't require it, no..." Azalea bit her lip, continuing carefully, "I'm just curious, that's all. You don't have to answer." She was content to lay there for the time being, wrapped up safely in his very being and listening intently to his explanation. His words sent a flutter through her already riled heart and she had to restrain herself from suggesting more, from suggesting that maybe a more permanent arrangement between them might fit their mutual feelings. Instead she settled for nodding slowly, a Cheshire Cat grin claiming her lips as she lifted her head enough to look him in the eye, misty eyes soft and fond upon him. "Are we cheddar or swiss, then? Or perhaps a fine camembert?" Azalea fell into a fit of giggles, resting her head on Tristan's chest again as if were made to fit her resting against him. "I don't want to move. Staying here with you in this tub for the rest of the night isn't an option, is it?"

Tristan: That smile spoke volumes of words without ever having to say them, and Tristan found that he rather liked seeing her smile more and more. Looking into her sweet gaze full of so much adoration for the Frenchman he could not help the clenching of his heart. "Whatever combo we are -it is the cheesiest I am certain of this." Her giggles pulled a chuckle from Tristan as she settled upon his broad chest once more; like it was made for her. "Neither do I but eventually we are to become prunes from all this water." He pressed a kiss to her forehead perfectly content to stay idle with her wrapped up in his strong arms for a few more minutes.

Azalea: "We're like that extra cheesy Kraft mac and cheese." Azalea piped in, still snickering as she settled further into his arms, melding with him as if they were one. It felt right...after all the fuckery in her life, after all the turmoil, this moment felt truly right. "Prunes never hurt anyone..." She mumbled lazily, pressing a gentle kiss to his chest. "But how about we get out of here and curl up with a movie or something? Just relax..."

Tristan: "American foods leave me at a loss." He smiled wide shaking his head slightly sending his black hair to move with the gesture. Tristan was silently hopeful that he'd found what he'd been looking for in Azalea, he'd been looking for so long the man almost gave up. "Mmmyes, that sounds like a divine plan. Per'aps I can netfix a scary movie?" He rumbled reaching for a black, overly plush towel and holding it up for her. "If you would do the honor of toweling meh off..."

Azalea: His body, sinewy and toned, every ink-lined inch, was as beautiful as she though it would be. What was more attractive, however, was the confident way in which he carried himself; Nothing was more beautiful to her than the air one carried when they were centered with themselves. As she rose to her feet to slowly start toweling him off, she still couldn't look at /all/ of him, even as she skirt the towel down to his hips and beyond. Distraction came in lifting her grey eyes up to her Master's...to Tristan's. Fuck, when did that word slip into her head? "I definitely suggest it. But we can watch whatever you want to, really."

Tristan: Tristan melted under the attention, having his body toweled off byt the pretty ballerina before him made his heart feel as if it'd explode any second. He could feel her eyes on him, drinking in the details that made the man and he could not help but crack a small smile as he looked down at her. The Frenchman slowly raised his hand and trailed his fingers along her cheek in the softest of manners. "Scary movie and a dash of cuddling that is whats called for." With that he reached down and pulled her up against him, chuckling darkly as their bodies pressed together with only a tiny piece of terry cloth between them as he walked her backwards and towards his MasterBedroom. "I cannot think of anything I would rather be doing. Spending time with you is pure perfection." He rumbled in her ear as they left the steamy bathroom in their wake.

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