[ She watches him for those last moments, her tongue a cushion on the base of her mouth when Saber pulls his fingers out and puts them to use. It isn't the first time she's questioned herself having sex in these woods; it isn't the first time whatever substance or magic in her system silenced her mind to prioritize her body. Cellar lets go of control now as she did during the Wassail, lets her eyes shut and learns how well Saber can prepare her, fingers working with enough confidence to seem like familiarity. She holds his nape when he comes down for a kiss, tempted by relief and fueled by need. What is there to protest? Saber is finally taking care of her without having to hurt someone else, and a conveniently forgetful stray thought wonders why they didn't just pick this path from the beginning. ]
I don't know if this is real, [ Whispered against his lips, fingers kneading his skin. ]
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I don't know if this is real, [ Whispered against his lips, fingers kneading his skin. ]