Work Text:
There was one question he had always wanted to ask.
He had long been curious about what her smile felt like beneath his fingertips. He wanted to touch her face, to feel every subtle shift in her expression. And on that day…
“May I ask you something?” Ominis asked.
Arrantress tilted her head. “What is it?”
“I’ve always wondered… what your smile feels like.”
Arrantress took both of his hands and placed them gently against her face. “Well?”
“Are you smiling right now?”
“I won’t tell you.”
As his fingers touched her face, he could feel every subtle shift in her expression. Merlin… I like her smile.
“Interesting.” His fingers began to trace along the contours of her face. “You’re quite beautiful.”
Her face heated up. “I-I’m not!”
His fingers drifted lower, tracing the line of her jaw.
It feels nice. I want Ominis to keep touching me.
She simply let him continue as his hand moved down to her neck, eyes falling shut, the sensation ticklish—yet strangely pleasant.
“Just keep going,” she whispered.
Ominis hesitated for a moment. “Are you quite sure?”
Is this improper of me? Am I taking advantage of her?
She answered with a small nod.
His hand continued lower, settling over her chest.
“Why does it feel like this?” His palm traced along the curve, slowly and tentatively.
Her eyes shut as she held her breath. “Mmh… like what?”
“It’s soft, warm…” His fingers paused slightly as he felt the uneven rhythm of her heartbeat beneath his palm. “And your heartbeat… I can feel it.” His fingers moved again, more certain this time. “I’m not quite sure… Is it always this curved? I didn’t expect it to feel this smooth.”
“I— ngh… I don’t know…” She covered her mouth, breath unsteady. “S-sorry, that was embarrassing…”
“It’s okay, no need to cover. I want to hear it.”
She shook her head. “No…”
His hand stilled for a moment, then shifted slightly, his fingers catching on something more sensitive this time.
He inhaled softly. “This… is different.”
She gasped, her hand tightening over her mouth.
His fingers paused, as if considering it. “Ah— I see…” his voice dropped, quieter now. “This must be your nipple.”
“Ah—” she gasped, quickly biting down on her finger to hold back the sound. “Don’t… don’t say it… that’s embarrassing…”
He stilled at that, as if only just realizing. “I beg your pardon.”
A small silence fell between them, filled only by her uneven breaths.
“…Then—” she hesitated, fingers still near her lips. “Can I…?”
He tilted his head slightly. “Can you…?”
“…I want to know what it’s like too.” Her voice dropped to a mumble. “But…”
“But?”
She turned her face away, mortified. “…What if it looks strange?”
“…Strange?”
“In biology book…” she swallowed. “The illustration was…”
“What?”
“…kind of like a sea cucumber…”
“I’m afraid I don’t know what that is.”
She hesitated. “It’s… a sea creature that looks like a cucumber… that’s why it’s called a sea cucumber…”
A pause.
“…But it’s not green, it’s rather ugly—” she cut herself off.
A beat.
“…Ah.”
She lowered her voice, suddenly embarrassed. “You wouldn’t… know what green looks like.”
A small pause.
“…Never mind.”
“…I see.”
A faint pause.
“That is quite an unfortunate comparison.”
“Wait…” she shifted slightly. “I feel something.”
He paused, as if noticing the shift, though he said nothing at first.
“Are you… alright?”
She hesitated, clearly flustered. “I don’t know… it’s just…” She swallowed. “…it feels… warm and strange.”
He stilled slightly, sensing her discomfort.
“If something is wrong, you should tell me.”
Her fingers curled faintly against her lap, as if confirming something. “Oh, shit…” Her voice dropped, embarrassed. “…something’s wet.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes…” She paused, still flustered, then gathered a bit of courage. “So… may I?” she asked, then shifted closer, her hands trembling slightly as they found his waist.
He tilted his head slightly. “…You may.”
Slowly, tentatively, her fingers moved to the fastening of his trousers.
“Oh…” she murmured, still a little dazed. “…it doesn’t look like a sea cucumber at all…”
A soft chuckle escaped him. “Why would you think that?”
“I don’t know…” She turned her face away, embarrassed. “I told you, it was the illustration…” she muttered, still avoiding his gaze. “Please don’t make fun of me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
A small pause.
“Does it hurt?” he asked quietly.
“A little.”
His expression softened. “I’m sorry.”
He hesitated for a moment, then gently brushed his hand over her hair, slow and careful, before leaning down to place a soft kiss against it.
Fin.