Some things are familiar.
Like the way his hair falls when she loosens the hair tie. While his hair is not the brilliant white that she remembers, the hot sun as contrast to his warm skin, the curls are the same. It frames his cheeks and descends down his shoulders. The red hair took a bit of time to get used to, but now that the awkwardness and the pleasantries are over, she has found herself taking a liking to it.
“There, now I can see it better,” she says. If she had to choose, she’d prefer if he always kept his hair down. Perhaps it’s the nostalgia, perhaps it’s just due to how much better he looks with it down, she’s unsure, but with it flowing like a waterfall, she can thread her fingers through.
(Albeit, she will not deny how amazing it is to have his hair done up in the pony as she pulls his head back to reveal his chin.)
Sheba reaches up to run her fingers through his hair. She smirks at seeing his reaction. “My, if you blush even harder, your face will be the same colour as your locks.”
Her fingers slide down to cup his face. His face somehow feels softer, looser - younger. This is a man who is not saddled with the woes of a King. How often she ran her hands over his cheeks as he rested his head on her lap in the secluded hideaways of his palace. His skin had a roughness to it, but as her fingers drifted over his forehead, she had felt his stress fade away.
It was impossible for her not to think of those moments when she was alone with him. It must have been fate that she would be reunited with her husband, with some caveats, of course. There was always an asterisk.
She lets her fingers run across his cheeks. His gaze is on anywhere but her, and she smiles softly. How he has become a man who wears his heart on his sleeve.
Sheba takes this time to study him. No matter the changes - the new hair, the new clothes, his new tastes in food - he was still the man she fell in love with.
“Do not shy away from me, My King,” she reaches back and pulls down on his neck. He does not fight back and follows through.
His lips feel the same. He kisses the same.
Soft and delicate, they open slightly to let out a small sigh. Sheba feels his arms around her, his hands on the base of her back. His hair falls over his face and tickles her cheeks. His height over her makes her feel like he’s draping over her.
She presses her hands down onto his neck and he turns, deepening the kiss. Despite the years apart, he knows his wife’s mannerisms well - he understands how she communicates what she wants. If not for his hands keeping her upright, she would melt into his kiss - perhaps it is the nostalgia, perhaps his talented mouth that knows exactly what to do after years of experience, but his kisses feel divine.
Head dizzy, she pulls away. Her eyes catch his. His bangs act like curtains that frame his eyebrows and soft eyes. The eye colour was also something she had to get used to, a dazzling emerald compared to the citrine she remembered. It brings out his hair, she thinks, and she has to stop herself from getting lost in them.
“My King,” she begins, moving her hands down so they rest on his arms. They’re not as big as she remembers them, but perhaps that is simply her imagination. Her fingers dip under into his sleeves. She misses the tattoos that adorned his arms - how she would trace them in the early mornings - but the scars pique her curiosity just the same.
“Please,” she says, her hands moving down to rest on his. His hands lift off of her back and he lets her guide them in between them.
The gloves are new. Delicately, she pulls them off, letting them fall to the floor. His fingers are the same - worn from work, scarred from battle. This time it is not from being the king of mages, but from a sleepless doctor. She wonders how many men he’s touched with these hands, how many he’s healed.
Sheba lifts his right hand to her lips and kisses his knuckles. “Your hands are rough,” she tells him, turning his hand so she can kiss his palms. Her right hand holds onto his left so she can easily switch and give it kisses.
“Sorry My Queen, I’ve had to wash them a lot recently,” he apologizes with a chuckle. Despite the blush, that expression is the same. It’s one she remembers him giving her when he would have to leave early in the morning, or made her wait up too late at night.
She tuts her lips and rolls her eyes, but a smile lands, “Well, I will have to help you then. I cannot have you touch my skin with dry hands.”
He smiles and nods, “Thank you, my Queen, for stooping so low for me.”
She locks the door and leads him down to her bed. While there were other spots in Chaldea that had been fun - his room, where she could see his modern hobbies, or on the control deck after Ritsuka returned from rayshifting for something more dangerous - she enjoyed the intimacy of her room. Sheba had decorated it as much as she could, with throw pillows and lamps and toys for her familiars. A plush duvet covered the bed, and soft light illuminated the scene.
He sits down on the bed and looks up at her. Sheba cannot help herself from brushing his bangs away and kissing his forehead. Her legs follow her momentum and she sits on his lap, her knees trapping him.
She summons a bottle of moisturizer and squirts a dollop onto her palm. Carefully, she places the bottle on the bed. She holds up her hand and with a smile, he gives her his hands.
Her hands are so much smaller than his. She folds them together so she can run her hands over them, but she would be unable to cover them completely. This gives her an excuse to rub her hands up and down his, relishing the feeling of smooth skin against smooth skin, helped of course by the moisturizer. His hands feel so strong under her own, and she admires his knuckles and the veins that run up and down them.
“I’m pleased to see the state of your fingernails, as I would have not cut them for you,” she tells him. She pulls away and rubs any of the excess moisturizer into her hands.
He blushes, “Well, I know how you appreciate them being at a short length.”
Her ears prick up and a blush covers her cheeks. How surprising! She had not expected this version of Her King to make such a crude comment!
“For that, you must service your Queen,” Sheba hits him playfully before stepping off of him. She must admit that she misses sitting on his lap, the feeling of his warmth against her skin. She reaches for the bottle and hands it to him. “My back hurts, please, if you would.”
“I would love to.”
They readjust so she is lying on her stomach, her head on her folded arms. He kneels on top of her, and she can feel the way his legs hug around her midsection.
She listens carefully to the click of the cap, to the squirt of the moisturizer, to the soft sound of him spreading it all over his hands. She has to stop herself from kicking her legs up to hit his back out of impatience.
His hands are the same, but now they feel out of shape. That is alright - he is likely out of practice. He is no king of a thousand lovers, but a silly human who blushed hard the first time Sheba suggested they picked up where they left off. Thankfully, he agreed, and despite how new monogamy was to the two of them, having him to herself was a new change she was more content with.
He starts just below her shoulders, and she moves her hair out of the way so he can access more of her skin. She has already lost her embellishments, and her regular state of undress meant that he was free to touch wherever he pleased.
He has the hands of a doctor, and they move in order to find the root of Sheba’s pain. His hands feel so big on her back as they travel around. His fingers settle on a deep knot right at the top of her spine and dig in deep, causing Sheba to moan in response.
“I hope I am not being too hard,” he says, his fingers moving their way around to unravel the stress.
“No, you’re doing an amazing job,” she mewls, “It’s that good pain.” She knows that her sleep will be lovely tonight.
His hands move to curl up her shoulders before slowly running down her back, meeting in the middle near the base of her spine. His fingertips leave to reapply moisturizer, and she melts when his hands return. He traces her sides, but makes sure to not put his hands anywhere out of line.
The bed moves as he leans back up and his fingers settle just right above her tail. “I apologize, but...it might be easier if… you were to remove your bra.”
“Ah! Of course!” And with a snap, the piece of clothing is gone, leaving her topless.
To her surprise, or perhaps her disappointment, he diligently returns to his work. His hands move methodically down her spine, his thumbs moving together to spread her back, shimming down to repeat the process. The moisturizer smells of jasmine, and she closes her eyes, letting herself sink into the bed and the pillows.
Sheba starts to drift off when she feels the bed shift a little and his hand travels just above her ass.
“Mmm,” she moans, pushing her butt forward. “You are being thorough, I see.”
“I-I, it was by accident,” he fumbles, “I will return to your back.”
“No, it’s alright,” she says, turning over underneath him. Now he is kneeling above her. The light frames his face - an angel, he is. “Please, My King.” She reaches her arms up.
He leans down and rubs her right ear softly. “What would you have me do, My Queen?” he whispers, his breath hot against her skin.
“Make love to me,” she responds, and he swallows thickly.
“As you wish.”
He stands back up and starts to move to remove his clothing. Before he lifts his shirt off his head, he looks at her. “Ah, my Queen, if it’s alright -”
“It is no problem at all,” she says, and with a snap of her fingers, the lights turn off, leaving them in darkness.
She leans back and listens to the shuffling of clothes, before the bed sinks again once more. When their eyes settle into the darkness, he is at her face, and he kisses her again, this time more ferociously. With the lights off, she cannot see the way his face reacts well, but the feeling of touch and the sounds are exaggerated, and she relishes in the moans that drip from his lips.
“Is it alright if I touch you?” she asks, and he nods.
She’s careful. She knows that this human body is still unfamiliar to the two of them. She would do nothing to harm him of course, but she is careful not to touch anywhere that may startle him. She keeps her fingers away from his neck, his stomach, instead letting her hands roam down his back, and grabbing fistfulls of his hair so she can deepen the kiss.
“May, may I?” he asks, pausing to kiss her cheeks, her jawline, her neck, her forehead.
“What would you like to do, My King?”
“I wish to taste you.”
Sheba smirks, “Please do.”
He thanks her with another kiss, so deep that she wishes he would never stop, but his body’s limitations are higher as a human’s, and he must eventually break away, gasping for air. She gives him a parting kiss on the cheek before he nods and starts to make his way down.
His fingers hook into the waistband of her panties and he tries to pull down. Unfortunately, her outfit is a little complicated. “Sorry, if I could get a little help here,” he apologizes.
“No worries, it’s a bit difficult,” she admits. She snaps her fingers and the middle piece disappears into golden dust, leaving only her panties.
“You definitely have appeared in a complex outfit this time, My Queen. Do you attempt to upstage every woman in Chaldea?” he asks, slowly pulling them down. A wetness from her core makes them stick to her and dampens the cloth.
Sheba shrugged and smirked, “Well, you never know who you may have to seduce.” She paused, “Did it work, Doctor?”
He looks up at her before blushing and darting his eyes elsewhere, “Yes, it was...quite effective.”
Carefully, he opens her legs, and in the new space he finds himself. She bends her knees and scoots down to bring herself closer. He bridges the gap, his mouth finding the inside of her thighs, leaving soft kisses on the skin.
“Are you comfortable? Not overwhelmed?”
This is also something new - something she doesn't mind, of course, but something she isn’t used to hearing from the men she sleeps with. He had always been kinder to her back then, and she found their aftercare to be some of her happiest moments.
As she looks down at him, his emerald eyes piercing into her, she’s almost shaking from excitement.
She nods, “Yes, please, if you would.”
He swallows and closes his eyes, getting to work.
His tongue is the same.
Perhaps it is because he is a mage, used to incanting spells at a fast speed. Perhaps it is his own magic, maybe it is due to his thousand of wives. No matter the reason, his tongue is talented, quickly finding the ways to make Sheba unfurl.
She was already ready to go, and his tongue remembers how to get her to come undone, so she’s ruining the sheets with her wetness in record time. She has to hold herself from tightening her thighs around his head or running her fingers through his hair and pulling up, instead digging her fingernails into the duvet and throwing her head back.
“Ahh, My King,” she moans, the sharpness tugging at her every time his tongue swipes up her clit. He moans into her as response, his tongue diligently pressing against her entrance while his nose rubs against her. Loud noises echo throughout the room, from her moans and his licking.
Her toes curl and uncurl, and her nails are close to ripping the fabric. Face hot, she takes deep breaths to control herself. Her eyes flutter from the ceiling to down to him, and she almost comes right then and there at seeing him watch her as he does his work.
“Ahh, please, please,” she mumbles.
He pulls off, but his finger replaces his mouth, slowly and shallowly thrusting inside of her. “Is everything alright?” He pauses his motions, “We can stop, if you would like.”
She shakes her head and reaches out to him, “Please, I need you, now.”
He nods and in the darkness she hears more shuffling of fabric before he climbs up to where he was before. His chest is against hers, he exists in the space between her legs, and she quickly grabs onto his back.
“You’re beautiful,” he moans, kissing her neck, her collarbones, before returning to her lips. He mumbles against them, “Absolutely gorgeous, you are a goddess, My Queen.”
Sheba feels his hardness against her thigh, and he sits back in order to align himself up with her. His head swipes up against her entrance, trying to find hold, before it suddenly slips through.
The two moan in response, and he adjusts his position so that he can return to above her. His fingers thread through hers as they hold hands. “Let me know if it is too much,” he says before pushing in a little bit more.
His reactions are different. He’s much more vocal, moaning softly as he slowly seats himself in her. He gulps before looking down. His face is so hot, and so sweet, and she moves their hands so she can once again kiss his knuckles.
She likes watching him like this, patiently waiting for his time to move, and the deliciousness of his fullness inside of her. The way he kisses her to help ease any of the early pain. His hand in hers that grounds her, and the other that rests to hold himself up.
“Please,” he moans quietly. She raises her eyebrows in response - oh! She must have been studying him for too long.
She responds by kissing him deeply, “Please, Doctor, make love to me.”
He is slow with his thrusting, taking his time. Like with his tongue, he knows exactly where to hit, and so he makes sure to hit those places. Sparks fly in the corners of Sheba’s vision each time he pulls out and then thrusts back in. He studies her carefully, mouth open and eyes dark, but it is clear that no matter how much he tries, he is also unfurling, melting in her warmth.
“Ah, you’re so good,” he moans, finding his pace. The sound claps through the room, mixed with their groans. He leans down and kisses her again, and chokes slightly as she starts to thrust back against him.
This fullness, this is something she is familiar with. The feeling of his lips against hers, his hands in hers, his hair cascading around them, the moans and the sighs. The tightening feeling as she gets closer and closer to climax, guided by his strengthened thrusts against that one spot that makes her see stars.
The angle is too much, and he knows her too well, and she unravels. Her legs shake, and she closes her eyes, savouring in the feeling as waves travel all over her body. He helps her through it, thrusting and concentrating on the spot, until she descends.
“Where would you like me to come?” he asks, panting. He’s slowed down, but it’s obvious he’s only doing it so that he doesn’t come undone right then and there.
“Please, inside,” she replies. He swallows thick and nods, keeping his pace up until he seats himself fully inside of her and comes with a low groan.
They remain like so for a while, until he has to draw himself out of her. His arms are not as steady as before, but they are still capable of lifting her up from the bed and to her washroom to clean up.
Now it is his hands through her hair, lathering with shampoo and keeping sure to be delicate with her ears. When she’s clean, he dries her off, ruffling her hair with a towel. When she collapses on the bed, he runs off to go grab something from the cafeteria for the two of them.
“Was this… enjoyable for you, My Queen?”
She looks up from her plate of cake and raises an eyebrow. She studies him - hair wet from the shower, eyes alight, in some comfortable pajamas. Despite everything, he is still very much the man she fell in love with - and continues to.
Sheba leans over and kisses his cheek.
Now it is his turn to raise an eyebrow.
“But that does not mean it’s bad.”