#what it. what if constant ebb and flow of power exchanges between them…..i think that’d be neat

[silksworn]

[ approval ]  mixed with jewelry or laces....him complimenting her attire while adjusting something :)

[ approval ]  your muse complimenting mine on a choice they’ve made + [ jewelry  ]  your muse clasping a piece of jewelry for mine , such as a necklace , or earrings . 

Perplexingly enough, Enver lingers after he has been spent in her bed. Irastera herself had stood as soon as sweat had cooled and breaths been caught, making note to instruct one of the servants to change her sheets before she returned to her chambers next. Better to let the maids have the merry chore of scrubbing blood from the linens.

His staying surprises Iraestra more than it probably should. When better to study another than following a vulnerable moment, after all? What secrets might they reveal after the being bound to another so? The fleeting thought comes to her before she dismisses it, already moving on to more pressing matters. Such as where her robes and underthings have been banished to.

She feels the weight of his eyes on her as she readied herself, putting back on once more the vestments of a feared wizard in place of a paramour’s nakedness. Enver’s little quips as she paces the room thrice in search for the sister to the emerald bauble clutched in her hand only adds to her mounting frustration. Suddenly, she can’t stand the sight of him. The prick of the post against her palm goes quite unnoticed.

“You are taking far too much pleasure in this,” she observes crossly, holding out an expectant hand for her jewelry. Enver only serves to astonish her further when instead of handing it over he beckons her closer, hand wrapping around the back of her neck as if to kiss her once more.

His hand is a hot brand at her nape, fingers tightly twined into the hair at the root. Hold tight enough to be a collar or a lead. Ordinarily, Iraestra would rankle at such a clear show of — authority, possession, dominance? — and part of her still does. The venomous words on the tip of her tongue are instead stymied quite soundly as he places the missing earring in it’s place, calloused fingers soft on her earlobe. An astonishingly familiar gesture, somehow both service and claim. Of all the lovers she has ever had, she cannot say she has ever had anyone do such.

Enver’s touch is intimate in the same way a blade would make a home of a chest. Even though he is flushed flesh against her, mortal and touchable, Iraestra suspects that any true warmth in him would be found in the hot rush of heart-blood after the cut.

She barely registers what he says next.

Non-Sexual Acts of Dominance / @fatewoven