Archive of Our Own

Elise definitely had lost track of time. For so long, she had watched the hands of time move, minute by minute, hour by hour, in the back of her mind, always counting. But time didn't matter so much anymore anyway, not when Rosmarine was lying in the grass right next to her. Rosmarine's face was flushed, giggles were bubbling out of her and Elise could not get enough of them. 

Maybe she was afraid that if she were to look away, Rosmarine would be gone again, carried off Lord knows where. But any such fear was soothed by the hands that idly played with hers. Calloused fingertips brushed over the inside of Elise’s palm tracing patterns she couldn’t follow. Occasionally Elise would catch Rosmarine’s hand in hers, then Rosmarine would interlace their fingers, perfectly fitting their hands together and Elise felt like she was dreaming. 

In the heart of the woodlands, bathed in the full moon’s light and the twinkle of fireflies, Rozenmarine was holding her hand. Wind rustled blades of grass, twigs and leaves, raising them into a quiet applause, a gentle jubilee for two girls who had been found once again. 

Rosmarine was telling her of one of the many jobs she worked, helping a carpenter and learning woodworking. The man she stayed with seemed very kind and while the story was definitely interesting, time and again Elise got distracted by the way Rosmarine’s hair framed her face. 

It was different than she remembered, obviously. Elise had clung to those memories. Keeping them close to her heart; from how Rosmarine carried herself to each of the patches on her dress… Yet she had forgotten so much. The colour of her hair, she had imagined it just a shade darker. And the shape of her nose, was that just how she remembered? As months turned into years, no matter how much she had tried, Rosmarine's face had gotten harder and harder to picture. Was Elise how Rosmarine remembered? 

At first she had barely been able to take it all in, those changes. Much of it was fuzzy: disappointment and a grief, strange and unsettling, faded like memories of an unpleasant dream, as Elise was roused awake seeing her stand there in the clearing. Somehow until then she had believed Rosmarine would appear to her unchanged, with that big straw hat pulled deep into her face. Waltzing into Elise’s life, Rosmarine always left Elise’s heart struggling to keep up. The seventh day of the seventh month had become the axis on which Elise’s world spun, her hopes and longing focused on this one moment, and now everything shifted once more as Rozenmarine smiled at her.

“I like your hair,” Elise said. The shorter cut was one of the biggest changes and it made Elise's heart flutter. The other big change was, of course, the apron; Elise's apron that was wrapped around Rosmarine’s waist. 

“The apron too, it suits you.”

That was true, Elise's apron suited Rosmarine so well. All this time Rosmarine had kept it with her, true to her word to return it to Elise someday. But now that someday had come Elise did not want it. It had been her favourite too, so she had always taken great pains to take care of it. And so had Rosmarine it seemed. She rather liked it, Rosmarine wearing her things, so easy to recognise as Elise's, the apron — and Rozenmarine too. 

“Oh, right,” Rosmarine said. She tried to reach behind her back, but Elise would have none of it.

“Don't be stupid,” Elise said, grabbing Rosmarine's wrists. “Keep it.”

“But it's yours,” the response was half-hearted at best. “I am not a thief, you know,” Rosmarine said. There was an impish little smile on her lips, and she didn't even bother pulling out of Elise's grasp, instead she leaned further towards her inching just a little closer. 

“It is mine,” Elise confirmed. It was hers, and so, “I suppose, you just have to stay around, then, Miss-Not-A-Thief.”

With that said she loosened her grip. It didn't go well with her new style anyway, Rosmarine probably knew that. Rosmarine hummed happily before sliding her hands into Elise's. 

“I am not gonna let it go again,” Elise warned, “it's my favourite after all.” 

“Oh Elise,” Rosmarine cooed at her, “you are my favourite, too.”

There was no point protesting that, Elise did it anyway, “that's not what I meant,” she complained. 

“So, I am not your favourite?” 

“I didn't say that either, did I?” Elise groaned. Three years later, Rosmarine was still annoying. Before Rosmarine could open her mouth and be even more annoying, Elise said, “Stop fishing for it."

“Fishing for what, I wonder?”

“You know exactly what; you always do,” Elise said. She rolled onto her back with a defeated sigh, though she did not let go of Rosmarine's hands. 

Looking up, Elise could see the stars. She had done that a lot these past couple years. As time passed she learned to remember the names of many constellations and stars, recognizing the familiar patterns with ease. A fact Elise hoped to take to her grave.

“I don't need to say it,” Elise claimed. “I wouldn't be here otherwise.” 

Beyond question or doubt, Elise's heart belonged to Rozenmarine. Her heart lost to the stars every night, she had waited. Had Rosmarine felt like that back then, before they had found each other in Kieferberg? Had she watched the stars, wondering when the two of them would finally meet; wondering if she had finally waited enough? Honestly, and the lass had the gall to claim she was no thief, when she had not just taken the apron but also Elise's heart with her.

Rosmarine pulled herself closer and curled around Elise. “Can't you say it anyway,” she said and with her chin resting on Elise's shoulders she was too close. 

“No,” Elise replied. 

“But Elise!” Rosmarine whined. A quick glance to her side confirmed it, Rosmarine was pouting. It was pretty cute too, cheeks puffed up like that, little wrinkles framing her frown. As vexing as it was, anything Rosmarine did tonight somehow Elise would find it endearing. 

“For goodness sake,” Elise groused, though far from surrendering to Rosmarine's demands. Instead, leaning over just slightly, she let her left hand come to rest on Rosmarine's cheek. Then she pinched it, hard.

“Ow, ow! Ewis!” 

Hah! Rosmarine's little yelp was also adorable. Using both her hands she caught Rosmarine’s cheeks between her fingers and pulled, stretching the soft tissue back and forth.   

“Owie, Ewwisee! Pwease!” 

With a snicker Elise released her cheeks. “Don’t pout,” she said but Rosmarine kept yammering, now rubbing her cheeks with an offended curl to her lips. 

The triumph, like so many in Elise's life, was short lived. Surprisingly strong fingers grabbed her wrist, and with one swift movement Rosmarine rolled them over. 

Rosmarine really didn't need to look so smug about this. Even with her straddling Elise's hips, and holding her arms down, if she wanted Elise could have easily thrown her off. Which she would do any second now, one twist of her legs and hips, and Rosmarine would be the one on her back before she knew it. If only the moonlight didn't make Rosmarine look so pretty. What a shame it would be, to ruin such a view; just the moon, the stars and Rozenmarine. 

“Say, Elise, are you ticklish?”

“Hm? What — eeeeek!” 

There was no time to be embarrassed about that horrid squeak, Elise was fighting for her life, laughter robbing her of her breath as Rosmarine's fingers danced over her sides. 

“Rosma—, haha cut it out, ahahaha.”

Rosmarine did not show her any mercy, rather she was giggling happily taking much joy in Elise's suffering. That was until Elise snatched her hands and pushed back. Rosmarine's giggle contorted into high pitched squealing as Elise paid her back in full. 

Rosmarine thrashed under her, feet kicking upwards, they batted at each other, and maybe Elise even caught an elbow in the chin once but it was hard to care when Rosmarine's laughter was ringing in Elise's ears. Beneath her Rosmarine's body was warm and real, in Elise’s reach. They were always touching each other somehow, back and forth, turning the other over, pushing and pulling the both of them grasped at each other, until they had their fill of the other's laughter.

And Elise thought she might never have her fill. She had missed it so. Never could she have enough of this, never would she grow tired of it. But then after a final turn, Elise took a firm hold of both of Rosmarine's wrists with her right hand, pinning Rosmarine's hands to the ground, ensuring a victory that had in that very same moment ceased to matter.

They were both heaving, laughter mixed in between gasps for air. There was no push back anymore, Rosmarine just looked up at Elise, her eyes were wide and glassy. Yes, Elise would never have enough. How could she ever have enough of this? 

Not long ago Elise had entered these woods looking for her heart's desires. Night for night she had sought something that would soothe this longing for more. There had to be more to life, there had to be more than Kieferberg. She had been desperate for more . And there was, she had wandered and seen that the world was so much more. Yet the longing had remained, a familiar companion and an ache deeply buried in her chest, an ache that Elise had finally understood. Elise ached for home. 

Home was a person. It had been Granny Holle, and then Elise had lost her home the first time, just to lose it again when she had finally begun to understand. Home was Rozenmarine, who said strange things with wonder in her eyes, who showed her what the world could be. Someone she had somehow always known. 

It was not enough, not yet, Elise was still not home. The longing scorched her. Rozenmarine had taught her the truth of her longing, of her desires, and had left her aching. 

“Elise?” Rosmarine asked, quietly. “Can you kiss me?”

“I told you before…”, she was answering the wrong question, wasn't she? Rosmarine was asking for something different. “Ah.” 

Elise wanted, she wanted to, but she didn’t know if she could. For all the desires in her chest, the ambitions and wants that had carried her through the woodlands fraught with horrors, Elise had never really known how to take. Not like this at the very least. 

How much time had Elise wasted too afraid to take what Rosmarine was so freely offering her. 

“Rosmarine,” she said. “I am…, I don’t know how,” she admitted between gritted teeth. 

“Oh Elise…” 

Gently Rosmarine pulled her hand out of Elise’s grasp. Its caress was cool against Elise’s cheek, and Elise leaned into the touch. Time had left its mark on Rosmarine’s hands, rougher skin covered in calluses and healed over nicks and cuts, but her touch was just as tender as before. She let go of Rosmarine’s other wrist to hold Rosmarine’s hand in place on her cheek.

“... I want to…” Elise mumbled against the inside of Rosmarine’s palm, turning her head just slightly. “... I want…” 

Rosemarine’s thumb brushed over her lips, “Please, Elise,” she said.

It would be cruel to refuse her, Elise could hear it reflected Rosmarine’s voice, the very same ache she felt. They had kissed before. Rosmarine had kissed her in ways that kept her awake at night unfulfilled and hungry. A hunger hot and fierce that she had tried to sate fruitlessly. 

“Ah,” Elise shut her eyes, clutching Rosmarine’s hand. With shuddering breaths she pressed her lips against the palm, against each of these new callouses, against the thumb, against her fingertips. How different these hands would feel on her skin now? Rosmarine’s hands spoke of the distance between, of the time that had passed, but they also whispered proof of Rozenmarine's devotion, of a journey to return to Elise’s side once more. The taste of Rosmarine’s skin was bittersweet.

“Can you —, can you, close your eyes?” Elise asked.

“Umm, yes!” Rosmarine rushed to say, and when moments later Elise peeked at her face her eyes were closed in eager anticipation.  

With her request fulfilled Elise thought it would be easier. It was not. Bending down she held onto Rosmarine's hand, for nothing but the flimsy hope it would steady her frantic heart. 

The deep breaths she took did not help much either, rather, beneath her Rosmarine's face broke out in little twitches. 

“Elise, it tickles,” she giggled. 

“Quiet,” Elise snapped, and unlike her heart at least Rosmarine had the decency to try. 

None of this was working, that stupid wretched thing beating in her chest betrayed her again and again. But she wouldn't let this get the best of her, she had waited too long for this. 

Her eyes squeezed shut so tightly it hurt, Elise darted down and pressed her lips against Rosmarine's cheek. It was a start. She kissed the other cheek next, and this time she let her lips linger a little longer. A kiss to her forehead was followed by more kisses to her temples, the bridge of her nose, any spot that Elise could find. Each kiss was more relaxed than the last, prompting delighted little giggles from Rosmarine.

Rosmarine seemed quite happy with just this, but Elise was not. She cupped Rosmarine’s face with her hand and Rosmarine grew still but her eyes remained closed. 

The kiss was over before Rosmarine had even the time to react. Slowly she opened her eyes, blinking at Elise. Rosmarine’s gentle smile did little to soothe Elise. Elise had her lips pressed together too tightly, and in the rush she had pressed too hard against Rosmarine’s lips and it was just… “That was bad,” Elise mumbled.

“Elise, that’s not—” Rosmarine said, but Elise would not have it. Her heart was beating so fast, blood rushing in her ears. 

“Let me try again,” Elise said. “Close your eyes.” 

Rosmarine listened and Elise tried again. And again until beyond all the noise of her stuttering nerves she could feel them, all those little notes of this duet between them. The way Rosmarine’s lips were soft, yielding to Elise’s rhythm; Rosmarine’s warm hands; the familiar, yet different smell.

Whenever Elise thought she had enough, she noticed another thing, something she wished to remember. Like Rosmarine’s breathless giggles between kisses, unlike any Elise had heard before and made heat spread in her belly, or the playful hands that had snuck under the collar of her shirt pulling Elise in for more. Every now and again Rosmarine made this wonderful little sound in the back of her throat, encouraging Elise to try to do anything just to hear it again. 

Catching her breath was hard when Rosmarine’s fingertips were brushing over the nape of her neck. It was distracting in all the right ways. With her body slumped against Rosmarine, Elise felt dazed, head filled with stray thoughts she could not be bothered to chase. She buried her face in Rosmarine’s hair, pressing kisses against the side of her head, moving further down until she was kissing behind her ear. 

“I missed you, Elise,” Rosmarine said and truly she had no shame, angling her head and inviting Elise to continue kissing her along the slope of her neck. What a nice invitation it was too, one too tempting for Elise to resist. 

Elise had always scoffed at the stories of farmhands sneaking their sweethearts behind sheds, unable to keep their hands to themselves, and yet here she was in the middle of a forest, head in the clouds, fooling around much the same.

It was embarrassing, so much so that Elise's ears were burning, but not enough to stop her. Mind fuzzy and overwhelmed by Rosmarine calling out her name between pleased hums, Elise felt like she was dreaming again. It would not have been the first time she had dreams like this, sometimes she even had them wide awake, her mind wandering during a slow afternoon. But in those dreams Rosmarine had long hair, the skin of her hands was smooth and soft. In them Elise was steady, always doing just the right thing. She did not fumble, nor did she question if her kisses were strange or wrong. Yet the dream she was seeing now, made her forget all those fantasies — they paled in comparison, Elise’s senses overwhelmed with details she could have never imagined.

Hearing Rosmarine say her name was wonderful. Each time it was unique, and Elise wanted to hear all the ways her name could sound. What might her name sound like whispered in the dark of their bedroom? How would it sound in the early morning hours, voice still thick with sleep?

But then Rosmarine sounded startled. “Elise!” Her name was accompanied with a sudden tug at her hair. With her other hand Rosmarine covered the space on her neck where Elise had just kissed her. “You can’t leave marks there,” Rosmarine said, “I don’t have anything to cover them.”

Elise had not even considered it, in fact she had not intended to leave any marks, but the sudden realization that she couldn’t…. the disappointment was difficult to ignore. Rosmarine’s collar was a lot lower than the ones Elise tended to wear, and with her hair so short, any blemishes on her neck would be painfully obvious. Rosmarine wandering back into Kieferberg with marks like that all over, by noon she would be accused of witchcraft for sure. 

“Ehehe,” she laughed, reflexively and sheepishly. “You could wear one of my shirts?” It might have been a little childish to argue, but now that the idea was in Elise’s head, she really wanted it. She remembered seeing the many small bruises across her own neck the morning after the festival. Even long after they had faded, Elise could imagine the ghost of a touch and found comfort in memories of marks that were transient, yes, and yet they had embedded themselves much deeper than skin and blood. She wanted to engrave her love on Rosmarine, much like Rosmarine had done to her, so Rozenmarine too would never be able to forget her. 

“Your shirts would be much too big on me,” Rosmarine said, hands playing with Elise’s collar. Shivers ran down Elise’s spine, whenever the back of Rosmarine’s fingers brushed against the skin of Elise’s throat.

Her shirts would be too big, Rosmarine was mostly skin and bones after all and not to say she was pretty short too. Elise didn’t see the problem with that though, Rosmarine would look lovely wearing her shirts. Then again, Elise quickly realized that it would be horribly obvious, and to make matters worse, Leb with that strange intuition of hers would know after taking one look at Rosmarine; they would have to move town, far far away where Elise would never have to look Leb in the eyes again. 

“Don’t pout,” Rosmarine said. The little snicker did not escape Elise’s notice. Lass thought she was being clever, didn’t she. 

“I am not pouting,” Elise grumbled, thoroughly proving Rosmarine’s point. 

“I…uhm… I didn’t say you couldn’t…uhm leave any marks,” Rosmarine said and the stutter caught Elise off guard, as did the sudden nervous glances to the side. “If you want, you could, uhm lower,” Rosmarine explained. The words barely registered for Elise and even if they had nothing could have prepared her for Rosmarine’s hands dropping down to undo the first button of her own dress. 

“Oh,” Elise said. She watched as the second button came loose. She also watched Rosmarine pull down the fabric and collar sewn into her dress and all Elise said was, “Oh.” Her voice cracked under the high pitch. The air in Elise’s lungs felt strange, like they had been stuffed with cotton.

“I see,” Elise said. Rosmarine was not meeting her eyes, and she was glad for it. Whatever expression had taken a hold of Elise’s face, she knew it was not a dignified one. Her breathing was flat and fast, mouth hanging open and her eyes fixated on the skin of Rosmarine’s collarbone and the soft swell that began just below that.

She was making an absolute fool of herself right now, wasn’t she? Elise had seen a woman naked before, not a lot and never in this context, but she had seen them, she knew what women looked like. She was in fact a woman herself even. She wasn’t some teenage boy who had never seen a tit before. She was much worse, because she wasn’t even seeing that much and yet she felt hot all over. 

The skin that had been hidden behind Rosmarine’s collar was paler than the rest of her, a gentle gradient separating it from that mildest of summer tans. Rosmarine probably burned quickly, she looked the type. At Elise’s staring Rosmarine squirmed, and then when Elise finally took heart and bent down to kiss the skin just above her collarbone, a small gasp escaped her.

Even with Elise’s hesitant kisses, teeth only ever scraping over sensitive skin, the first tiny spot formed just under Rosmarine’s collarbone. With that blossoming mark the hesitancy melted away, and soon dark patches started to cover Rosmarine’s skin. Rosmarine’s skin bruised so easily and she was so eager, so appreciative. Elise only had to listen to her, to those pleased sounds and the tremble of her voice. 

With Rosmarine telling her just what she wanted, Elise kissed along her collarbone following its swooping line to where her dress began. When Elise pushed the fabric further aside Rosmarine sighed, one of her hands running through Elise’s hair starting from her neck to the back of her head. It was so easy to tell, really, just how much Rosmarine liked when Elise’s teeth dug into her skin. Rosmarine’s breath hitched and pleased sighs rose in pitch into pretty gasps. Any worry that she was biting too hard, evaporated along with Elise’s restraint when the hand in her hair tugged and Rosmarine pushed herself up against her. Her teeth left clear and deep imprints all over skin, and Elise thought about admiring them in the daylight. 

“Elise, Elise, Elise,” Rosmarine’s voice had grown thin as Elise pulled the fabric of her dress down further, almost down to the low neckline of the chemise Rosmarine must have been wearing underneath. 

“Elise,” she repeated one more time. “Elise, do you want me?”

They had been rushing past a point of no return, Elise had in the back of her mind recognised this. She had not wanted to care, had deliberately ignored it even, but confronted with the reality of her own desire, Elise froze. 

Her breaths came out shaky, but no words would leave her lips. She only stared up at Rosmarine’s face. Even with just the moonlight Elise could see her so clearly, the swollen lips and glazed over eyes. Had she looked at Rozenmarine like that the night of the festival? Was she looking at Rozenmarine like this right now? Was the same desire reflected in her face?

“Elise,” she kept saying her name, and her smile was a little wobbly. The tight grip on Elise’s hair loosened, with gentle hands Rosmarine ran soothing lines through Elise’s hair. “Elise, I want you,” she whispered and Elise’s world spun, once again Rosmarine was making it all spin.

“I am not ashamed of wanting you, Elise,” she said. “I have always wanted you… but… do you want me?”

Elise wanted to give her an answer. Wasn’t it obvious? Why make her say it? There would be no going back after. She was not ashamed, it was just embarrassing and that was normal wasn’t it? Rosmarine was the strange one, who could look at her without flinching and professed every last bit of heart to Elise. Rozenmarine had given Elise her heart without hesitation, but how was Elise to do the same, when it made her feel like the tiniest gust of wind would tear her apart piece by piece, and even the moonlight exposing her would burn her. Baring herself to another, there would be nothing left of Elise. 

“Rosmarine, I… ,” Elise wasn’t the only one vulnerable; she could see it now, the quick glances to the side, the raised shoulders. They were the same now, weren’t they? Having lost their heart to the other, Rosmarine had yearned for her, waited years to finally meet Elise who had been promised to her by the stars, just as Elise had waited. The same love, the same want, equal in all matters, they were the same, and they had finally found their way home.

 Elise shut her eyes, it would be easier that way. “I do,” Elise said.

Rosmarine took her hand, “Elise,” she asked as she guided her hand to rest upon her sternum, “won’t you —, Elise, will you touch me?” 

With the weight of Rosmarine’s hand atop of her own, Elise led by Rosmarine moved her hand across Rosmarine's body. Elise’s palm wandered down her sternum to her stomach and over her hips. When Elise bent down to kiss her again, it was clumsy and had their teeth clanking against each other.

Only when Rosmarine pushed Elise’s hand under her dress, — onto her chest, placing it firmly on her right breast, Elise stopped kissing her. Panting heavily against Rosmarine’s open lips, she squeezed through the rough fabric of the chemise and the reward resonated through Elise in pleasant waves of heat. It was a moan wet and hot, at a pitch almost shrill, that broke off into a breathless gasp and Elise craved hearing it again.

Rosmarine’s hand clutched Elise’s wrist, dull fingernails digging deeply into her skin. The other had found a hold on one of Elise’s suspenders desperately pulling it. Rosmarine called out her name again, interrupted by shallow gasps each time Elise closed her hand around her breast. 

“E-Elise, c-can you,” whatever Rosmarine tried to say, she gave up on it quickly, instead she pushed Elise back a little and scooted out from under her. She untied the apron around her waist. The bow must have pressed into her back uncomfortably, Elise thought as she watched Rosmarine carefully fold the apron. Even after all that, Rosmarine had the peace of mind to treat Elise’s apron with care and it brought a smile to Elise’s face. A smile that slipped off her face almost immediately. 

After setting aside the apron and kicking off her clogs Rosmarine wasted no time and pulled her dress over her head. She struggled a little with all that fabric, and then the next time Elise saw her face peek out again her hair was even more tousled than before with strands of hair sticking out all over. 

“Huh,” Elise blinked owlishly at Rosmarine, who after discarding her petticoat was now sitting in the grass in her underwear: White stockings, loose fitting cotton padded jumps tied together in the front over a chemise and some simple drawers, all a little worse for wear. 

“You are going to stain them,” Elise said, her mouth moved much faster than her sluggish thoughts, “Grass stains are a pain to wash out.” They would manage, but the fabric already looked old and rough like it had been scrubbed one too many times. It would probably be best to avoid getting grass stains all over Rosmarine’s whites.

“Ah, I suppose, you are right,” Rosmarine mumbled and since she seemed to insist on having her head tilted away it was a little hard to hear. “It would be best to take them off then?” she said. 

Maybe Elise had misheard, her brain was still playing catch up, but the shy glance confirmed that Elise’s hearing had not completely failed her. 

“Yes,” she said. If they didn’t want any grass stains, taking them off was going to do that, certainly. So would putting her dress back on, but one word answers were all Elise could muster. 

Maybe Rosmarine was a witch after all. Here in the heart of the woodlands she had cast a spell on Elise. Elise was utterly bewitched, was she not? Unable to take her eyes off Rosmarine who was undoing the ribbons of her jumps with trembling fingers.

This enchantment of hers had started long ago. From when they had first met, Rozenmarine had worked her charms so well with handmade bracelets and pinecones; and Elise, drawn to her helplessly, had fallen under her spell so completely there was no saving her. 

Rosmarine discarded her jumps, quickly pulling off her stockings before she hesitantly started untying the band of her drawers. “You are staring,” she said quietly. 

“I am sorry,” Elise apologized, yet she did not avert her eyes, as spellbound as before she watched the drawers join the other layers on the grass. Only that thin chemise remained to cover Rosmarine’s body, how was Elise not meant to stare and take in all that was Rosmarine. They were so close, Elise could have just reached out and touched her, let her hands run all over that piece of fabric.

“No, uhm, I like it,” Rosmarine admitted. “I like it when you look at me.” Then she pulled the chemise over her head.

A witch, there was no doubt about it, and Elise was going to do whatever she wished of her. A shallow whine, cut short by the lack of air in Elise’s lungs, escaped Elise’s lips. Rosmarine slowly unfurled, leaning back on the grass, she dropped those arms that had come to cover her chest on reflex.

Having bared herself to Elise, Rozenmarine spread out in front of her with pale skin against the dark grass. Even in the moonlight Elise could see she was flushed head to toe, her chest was heaving in an erratic rhythm that drew Elise’s eyes. Rozenmarine’s breasts a delicate swell, so very soft to the touch, nipples surrounded by darker skin. She had felt them earlier through the chemise, her nipples stiff and sensitive. What sounds Rozenmarine would make, how would she tremble, if Elise let the rough and calloused pads of her thumbs brush over them.

“Rozenmarine…”

Rozenmarine’s heart and body was put on display; and the pleasure she took from it, from being seen, was unmistakable. She enjoyed Elise watching her, it was written all over her face. Maybe it was also hearing her name whispered faintly. Elise knew how much she liked hearing it. 

There was no risk of staining any of Rozenmarine’s clothes anymore, and yet Elise could not stand it. Rosmarine deserved to be spoiled, and have Elise carry her to a bed with a mattress soft and welcoming, surrounded by finest silks and fabrics. She was too pretty to have her laid out like that in the dirt, atop of pebbles and sticks, on hard and cold ground. 

But Rozenmarine never cared about any such things. She had no need for expensive fabrics and luxuries, she preferred that old dress covered in patches, and had happily slept under the stars at night. Rosmarine had never wanted Elise to sweep her off her feet to a castle filled with riches; all Rozenmarine had ever wanted was Elise’s hand to hold.  

With both hands Elise reached over, taking a surprised Rosmarine and pulled her into her lap.

“Elise!” she cried out. Elise let go of her, startled by the sudden alarm and the awkward shifting on top of her. 

“Wha—”

Rozenmarine's hands clutched her shirt with an iron grip. But before Elise could catch a glimpse of the expression on her face, she buried it in Elise's shoulders. 

“Y-your pa-pants…u-uhm,” she muttered. Her voice, wrought with a stutter, was quiet as a mouse, and just as meek.

“My pants?” 

“They, they're, uhm, g-going to-to get di-dirty”, Rozenmarine said. She squirmed, drawing attention down to ...

“Oh!” Elise squeaked. 

Rozenmarine resolutely kept her face pressed into Elise's shirt. 

“That's, that's fine!” Elise said, an awkward laugh tumbled out of her mouth, “ehehe, we, uh, can just wash them tomorrow.” 

“But —” “It's fine! That, those stains, they come out easy.” 

Elise glanced downward, until now she had avoided looking directly, her gaze always skipping over the area. At this angle there was not much to see, especially not with Rozenmarine rubbing her thighs together. All Elise could spot were the dark patches of thick dark hair.  

“I like your pants,” Rozenmarine mumbled. “You look very pretty, and uhm, handsome in them.”

“That so?” Elise replied, definitely pleased but still staring somewhere she shouldn't. “D-don't worry about them.”

After some shuffling they both found a comfortable position with Rozenmarine seated in Elise's lap and her legs loosely wrapped around her waist. With their foreheads pressed against each other, Elise struggled to avoid Rozenmarine's eyes. 

“Are you cold?” Elise asked. Her arms hung limply at her sides, unsure where to put them. The cool grass tickled her fingertips, Elise tugged at the blades one by one.

Rozenmarine shook her head. Both of her hands had busied themselves running up and down Elise's suspenders, sometimes pulling them ever so slightly and twisting them between her fingers. After a pause she seemed to change her mind, “Ah! Uhm, yes.”

With that implicit permission and wonderfully transparent excuse, Elise wrapped her arms around Rozenmarine. Keeping up the pretense Elise rubbed firm circles with her palms over Rozenmarine’s back trying to warm her up. 

“Can you kiss me again?” Rozenmarine asked and Elise, knowing her voice would fail her miserably, leaned forward to fulfill the request wordlessly. Her thoughts were hazy, drifting along in waves of warmth with Rozenmarine soft and pliable on top of her, sinking into Elise’s embrace. 

It started with a simmer, pleasant warmth stoked into low boil, as Rozenmarine stirred and grew restless in her lap. With eager hands tugging at Elise's collar Rozenmarine fell out of rhythm, pushing herself into Elise. Who tried to catch up, to match Rozenmarine in her erratic kisses but it was not enough. Kissing was not enough.

“Please,” Rozenmarine whispered. 

“I…Rozenmarine…” Elise couldn't look at her, it made her dizzy, as did the small dark smears staining her pants. She choked out a desperate groan. 

“I… have never… I don't,” her mouth was dry and the pressure in her chest cut off her words. Elise had barely been able to kiss Rozenmarine.

Rozenmarine was squirming against her, the twitching of her hips dictating the staccato of Elise's gasps for air. How many times had she thought about this? Rozenmarine greedy for her touch, pleading Elise for shameful things.

Elise had been so very lonesome, with only memories to keep her company and desires that had finally born fruit only to ripen unplucked. Fruits that were overly sweet and rotten having been left for so long. Her fingers sticky, they had an aftertaste foul and cloying, as memories that had filled her with warmth would suddenly leave her cold even long after she had washed her hands clean of them.  

Her fingertips dug into Rozenmarine's skin. Touching Rozenmarine, it would not be that different, in some ways at least. 

“E–Elise.” Rozenmarine held Elise's face between her hands, with a gentle pressure she tilted Elise's face back up towards her. Elise squeezed her eyes shut. The expression on Rozenmarine's face, open and filled with need, was too much.

Rozenmarine stilled. “Do you not want to?” she asked softly. 

“Stupid,” Elise murmured. “I just– it's not that.” Been left wanting for so long, having Rozenmarine rendered her helpless. A simple kiss had driven her heart into a frenzy, what would touching Rozenmarine do to her? What would she be left with after?

“Can you open your eyes for me?”

Rozenmarine was smiling at her and met Elise with a steady gaze. Her fingers were playing with Elise’s earlobe, it was just loving and distracting enough that Elise could look at her without crumbling. 

“How are you so calm?” Elise asked while focusing on thumbs pinching her earlobes, and rubbing over tiny healed scars for earrings Elise hadn’t felt like wearing in a long time. 

“... I am not…,” Rozenmarine said. Like she had done earlier she guided one of Elise’s hands to her sternum, she pushed it firmly against her chest. With nothing left between them, Elise felt it, resonating through her palm was the racing heart of Rozenmarine, erratically hammering against her ribcage, as she spoke, “but uhm, I ha—, I have thought about, umm, this before,” she admitted. Her hand twitched before clutching Elise’s tightly. 

“How much?” Elise was helpless, desperate and hungry, the thought had not even fully formed when the question had fallen out of her. Elise’s eyes would wander, from the hand on Rozenmarine’s chest, to Rozenmarine’s face. 

“Elise,” Rozenmarine whined. “Of–, o-often... I would; I would think about you,” she said. That was not enough, there was more to confess, they both knew it, they were the same after all. Despite that, Elise needed Rozenmarine to tell her. Every bit of herself Rozenmarine offered up to Elise fueled this burning greed for more. 

“I would think about you, about, uhm, the night of the festival,... about touching you.” What a feat it was, for Rozenmarine to be able to speak, when Elise could barely think. 

“And… and I would think about you touching me, Elise.” 

She was so very shameless, this girl, it was going to drive Elise mad. Such madness had taken hold of Elise many times before. Consumed by it Elise had imagined many things; stealing Rozenmarine away on warm summer afternoons, when nobody would come by the mill. The stone would feel cool against Elise’s back as she looked down to Rozenmarine kneeling in front of her, her mouth messy and wet. A fantasy that seemed much nicer now, with that lovely short hair Elise could run her hands through and hold on tightly. 

“When I – ” Rozenmarine faltered, if only for a moment. “I thought about you, Elise, ...when I…,” Rozenmarine’s whispers pulled at those last strands of sanity Elise clung to. 

Anticipation pushed Elise into a breathless stagger, her head dropped onto Rozenmarine’s shoulder. Just a little more, only a few more words and Elise could breathe again, until then all Elise could do was watch. Watch as Rozenmarine’s hand slowly moved their hands down her own body; watch Rozenmarine spread her legs for her.

“... when I touched myself, …”

“Rozenmarine,” Elise choked out her name, her throat was dry and her tongue felt heavy.  For just a moment she closed her eyes, drawing in breaths desperate and shallow. But when she opened her eyes again, watching Rozenmarine guide Elise’s hand past her navel — Elise was unable to hold in a pitiful moan. 

It was loud enough to make her heart stutter in embarrassment, the tips of ears burning. She had thought she knew; knew her own hunger, the depth with which she wanted Rozenmarine. She did not, she was unprepared for it, the way it rocked through her body and made her muscles quiver.

Elise felt coarse hair, wet and sticky, over hot skin beneath her fingertips. With timid care Elise brushed aside the hair, before Rozenmarine pushed Elise’s hand a little further. The slick skin was warm, and the moment she touched it Rozenmarine jerked her hips with a cut off cry. Rozenmarine’s grip on her hand was painful, reflexively Elise’s fingers twitched. The angle was awkward, her hand bent uncomfortably with Rozenmarine pressed so close, yet Elise looped her other arm around her to hold her even closer. 

She tried to keep her hands and fingers as still as possible against erratic hip movements, matched by high pitched gasps. After a few strangled breaths Rozenmarine’s muscles relaxed a little, and she loosened the hold on Elise’s hands. Elise nuzzled into her neck, pressing soft kisses against her skin. 

“ Ah, Ro-Rozenmarine, ” Elise called out to her, before tentatively moving her fingers, just a little at first. Clumsy, the muscles of her fingers painfully stiff, Elise ran her index and middle finger across smooth skin. Soon her fingers were completely coated in a sticky fluid, a sensation that made her head spin, and left no friction between the tips of her fingers and Rozenmarine. As Elise touched her Rozenmarine whimpered, and each noise had Elise respond in kind. With something much like curiosity, she moved her fingers, trying to remember whether the whimper was louder than the last. 

“ Hah, ah , ah a li–little, ah , higher,” Rozenmarine said, mixed between desperate gasps, she pulled on Elise’s wrist eagerly. 

“H-Here?” Elise glanced at Rozenmarine’s face. Glassy eyes were hidden behind fluttering eyelids, her brows were furrowed, yet her face seemed relaxed with her mouth open, a stream of wonderfully sweet sounds on her lips. 

“Uh-huh,” Rozenmarine was nodding her head with such enthusiasm, like Elise couldn’t tell by the twitching of her legs, that, yes, right there… Elise pressed the tips of her fingers just a little harder against that spot. What had been an endearing affirmation turned into a squeak, and then, when Elise moved her fingers, into what was little more than senseless babbling. 

Oh, what horrid things this was doing to Elise, Rozenmarine trembling on top of her, rendered down to little pleas, any decency drowned out by the pleasure she openly sought from Elise’s fingers, her hips moving erratically for just a bit more. 

Elise’s fingers lingered for a while, while she basked in Rozenmarine’s wanton desire. Inside her grew a satisfaction full and rich beyond just a job well done, but tinged with contentment despite her restless heart. Her own arousal thrummed, a lovely ache building, still dull, still bearable, but ever so slowly pushing Elise forward. Elise let her fingers trail downwards, a gesture that was just as much a question.

“D–Do you…, do you want me to…” Elise muffled her voice in the crook of Rozenmarine’s neck. She hardly recognized herself, her own voice, weak and strained by this feverish adoration, her thoughts leashed by hunger that left no air for pretenses, a self she only ever had seen glimpses of. A stranger to herself that was so familiar, stripped to naked honesty, a prospect frightening and yet so terribly exciting. What kind of things would she say and do, this stranger, who knew little of the shame and cowardice that denied her own heart. In the comfort of Rozenmarine’s love this stranger was born, and known only by her. A stranger so very reckless, yet forever safe for Rozenmarine would love anyone Elise would ever be.

“ Mhm–mh ,” Rozenmarine was so eager and sincere in her own pleasure. Looking down Elise could barely see anything, not with Rozenmarine’s hair and her own hand covering most of her view, but it was easy, Rozenmarine angled her hips and oh, how easy it really was, Rozenmarine was so wet and slick; Elise’s index finger slipped into her, then her middle finger and Rozenmarine fell into Elise with a choked cry.  

Her hands were desperate for any kind of purchase, grabbing and grasping at Elise, clutching at her shirt, pulling at hair, while Rozenmarine kept moving her hips. Her legs coiled around Elise’s hips tightly; and then without shame Rozenmarine was pleasuring herself on Elise’s fingers and how pretty she looked indulging in it, too, what a lovely reward it was to watch Rozenmarine.

Upon the altar that was Elise’s lap, Rozenmarine offered up everything, just for her. Deep in the woods, where once Elise had presented her own devotions, her very own flesh and blood chasing hollow desires, Rozenmarine answered with truth, testaments of desires of a heart sincere, laid out shamelessly. Swollen lips and stained skin, tender flesh . The sweetest nectar , Elise’s fingers were coated in it, sticky and warm, and each time Rozenmarine moved her hips Elise could hear a sound, obscene , and so very wet ; what would it taste like, what Rozenmarine would taste like on Elise’s tongue?

Only one testament was left, was it not? 

“I love you, Rozenmarine,” Elise whispered. Truth begetting truth, Elise had longed to say it again, the truth of her own heart that had lingered in her chest for years unspoken. 

“ Ah !” and it seemed to delight Rozenmarine so very much to hear. Cries of pleasure were interrupted with struggling syllables as she tried to respond in kind, Elise’s name again and again on her lips. 

What strange, almost inappropriate, happiness spread in Elise’s chest, bright and giddy. But wasn’t it a wonder, to love and want in return, to want the same things and enjoy each other. In the light of this wonder, what else was there but joy and a smile as effortless as it could be. Floaty giggles between labored breaths, “I missed you,” Elise said and once again Rozenmarine shuddered in delight. 

“I was always thinking of you,” “I feel at home with you,” confessions fell out of Elise, “I love you,” again and again she professed, and every admission left Rozenmarine trembling and desperate in her lap. 

Elise’s face burned, the night’s breeze painful against her skin, she felt so hot, her thoughts unfocused and unfiltered. How could she ever be the same again after this, go about her day and think about anything else but Rozenmarine, so pretty with Elise’s fingers inside of her. Oh, Rozenmarine was ruining her. 

She was rambling, after waiting for so long, a cowardly but ardent heart turned reckless, telling Rozenmarine of her longing. Every little thing that she had yearned for; suppers prepared and enjoyed together; sitting by the creek, dangling tired feet into cool water in the summers; mending her dresses, care in every stitch, adding to those patches with Elise’s own; the two of them dancing during sudden spring showers; sneaking off together during festivals that dragged on too long — years worth of fancies of a girl in love yet to be fulfilled.

“ Mmmh, ” Rozenmarine hummed, so very pleased with every piece of herself that Elise entrusted her with, urging Elise on with messy kisses, overeager and too wet, along Elise’s jaw interrupted by moans that excited Elise just as much. 

“... I even want to try that grape soup of yours,” Elise said and teeth scraped over the thin skin beneath her jaw, then Rozenmarine bit her. “I mean it,” laughing all the while Rozenmarine nipped at her jaw in protest. She mumbled something, with her lips pushed up against Elise’s skin, hot breath tickling Elise and making pleasant shivers run down her spine. 

“ Hmmh, we will have to replant the garden,” Elise continued. Her wrist ached from the strain of keeping up with Rozenmarine. Her hips moved erratically as she raised and lowered them onto Elise’s fingers, that twitched ever so slightly at times, until she curled her fingers just at the right moment; and Rozenmarine pleaded for more. 

“I never got around doing that,” she had gotten distracted back then, but she had been so excited about it, hadn’t she? Barely a day had gone by after meeting Rozenmarine and she had been ready to dig up the garden, what a silly idea, really. It would have taken months for anything to grow, and that had been the exciting part, the very idea of Rozenmarine staying. Someone who helped her grow her garden and care for it, someone who had fit into her life so seamlessly like she had always been there. 

“We’ll have to fix the roof, I think,” Elise said softly. She turned her head to kiss Rozenmarine on the cheek, poor Rozenmarine was quivering all over, her legs clenching, ah, it probably wouldn't be long; and Elise would hold her until then, whispering to her all those things Rozenmarine too had longed to hear. 

There was so much they’d have to do, now that the house had stood empty for so long. It would be a lot of work for the two of them, from cleaning to repairs, and yet Elise looked forward to them all. They could pick out some flowers for the window boxes together. Rozenmarine wouldn’t be a guest anymore, it would be their bedroom, their garden, their home.

They could probably get her name on the deed, couldn’t they? After all, in the eyes of the people of Kieferberg, Rozenmarine was already Elise’s next of kin.

“We can probably even tell everyone your last name is Liedl,” she mumbled. They’d probably believe it, or at least not say anything about it, and how nice that would be, Rozenmarine’s name beside her own, proper and officially hers.

“—Elise?!”  

Rozenmarine, muscles rigid, pushed back Elise to stare at her. Her eyes were wide and her mouth was left open in shock, brows pulled tight in confusion. One of her hands grabbed Elise's wrist holding it in place. 

“Wha—,” Elise blinked, that fuzzy warmth that had blanketed her mind slowly lifting, and with it she paled. “...oh, I” she said, forcing her jaw to move, each syllable ground out between teeth, “...I didn't mean…that.”

“...Elise…”  

“I just meant, ah , Rosmarine, I didn’t mean to say it —, I…” no, she was messing this up, this wasn’t, ah , how embarrassing, Rosmarine was looking at her, and oh no, no, no, no, “Don't cry!” 

Her hand was still, her fingers were still…! 

“Oh,” Rosmarine sniveled, “oh, it’s quite alright,” she said and across her trembling face was a smile, quivering and fragile.

“Elise,” gently Rosmarine called out to her, but Elise whose heart was hammering, unpleasantly, painfully, in her chest, blood rushing so loudly she could barely hear a word. She turned her face away, staring at whatever tree most definitely deserved her ire, at anything but pretty Rosmarine, not while embarrassment locked Elise’s jaw tightly shut. 

“You really turn as red as a beet, don’t you,” with soft giggles, Rosmarine teased between sniffles. Didn’t she know now wasn’t the time for teasing! Elise wanted to snap at her, furious embarrassment striking hot in her chest, Elise’s hand and fingers were still held firmly in place by Rosmarine, which was uncomfortable and horrifyingly awkward, yet Rosmarine didn’t seem to mind it one bit. 

When Rosmarine caught Elise’s chin between her thumb and index finger, trying to turn her face around, Elise resisted, at first, until Rosmarine whispered, “please, won't you look at me."

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you, Elise, I was just surprised, is all,” Rosmarine soothed her, “I am sorry.” There were still tears welling up in Rosmarine’s eyes, but she didn’t look unhappy, no, her eyes were shining and Elise’s heart stuttered. Always kind and always careful with Elise’s fickle heart, Rozenmarine wrapped her arms around her. She rested her head on Elise’s shoulder. Her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm; with deliberate deep breaths that Elise found herself focusing on. In and out, inhale and exhale, through the nose, as simple as that; Elise followed Rosmarine’s tempo. 

“And, uhm, about…uhm, about…” Rosmarine’s voice grew quiet. 

“ Ah, ” Elise closed her eyes, “I… I am sorry, I, er, I was getting ahead of myself, wasn’t I,” she admitted, as painful as it was. 

Again Rosmarine giggled, “Mhm-mh, a little maybe.” 

Elise thought it would sting more; not that she had really meant what she had said. Though, she also had. Of course she had, for reasons of practicality, to ensure Rozenmarine was taken care of, but also reasons not so practical, but there was no shame in it, in daydreaming a little. 

“But, uhm, I also have been too eager myself at times, so, erm, I do understand.” 

“Thanks…,” Elise mumbled more than a little sheepishly. They were two peas in a pot, weren’t they, and Elise had liked to pretend she had been above it, but she never had been, not truly. Elise dreaded imagining what would have happened if she had slipped up like that back then. Rosmarine so eager to please Elise, and Elise desperate to have her; they both had needed to grow, and it seemed Elise still had some growing to do. But from now on they would be growing together, right?

“Can you wait a little longer? Someday, I am sure, Elise, that someday… ” Rozenmarine promised. 

“Because it’s fate?” she had waited this long, and as long as Rozenmarine was there, it didn’t matter so much anyway.

“No, silly,” Rozenmarine’s laughter was infectious, a comfortable resonance that made Elise’s chest swell with happiness. “because I love you,” Rozenmarine explained and, she was right, Elise felt silly, and that wasn’t so bad. 

“I see,” Elise said, giggling along, “I am pretty silly, huh”

“Mmmh–mh,” Rozenmarine’s hands playfully traced lines along Elise’s shoulder. But then, when Elise hesitantly moved her hand, hoping to, as tactfully as one could even do that, remove her fingers discreetly, — Rozenmarine’s hands clutched her shoulders. She made an unhappy sound, and Elise stopped, “hmh?”

“...Elise, can we…” Rozenmarine whispered shyly, and when Elise asked her, just to confirm, “You still want me to…?” she nodded weakly against her shoulder. 

“Oh,” Elise exhaled through her mouth, a little shaky, uncomfortably aware how excited she sounded. “Are you sure?” 

“Please.”

“What do you want me to do?” Elise asked softly. What do you need? What do you like? What makes you feel good? She wanted to know it all.

“Uhm, if, if you could, umm, move your palm a little, at an angle…” 

Mercifully Elise caught on, “like this?”, she shifted her upper body creating a little more distance between them, so she could bend her wrist up, pushing her palm up flat against Rozenmarine, with her fingers still inside of her. 

“Ah, mmhn, y-yes.” Rozenmarine was trying to catch her breath, little excited pants against Elise’s neck. Her hips twitched against Elise’s palm, rubbing herself against Elise with small jerks. “Can you, uhm, Elise, hah, move your — fingers,” as tension built Rozenmarine struggled through her request, “...slowly, uhm, can you, slow.”  

Elise hummed, happy to oblige but blushed fiercely as she pulled her fingers out just a bit, and a loud wet squelching sound reached her now burning ears. The sound continued when she timidly pushed her fingers back in. Rozenmarine was shuddering, face buried in the crook of Elise’s neck, hidden behind curtains of hair. Earlier she had been the one to set the rhythm, taking what she needed from Elise, something that would haunt Elise for weeks to come, finding she rather liked it. This girl who had so little and yet loved to give, who had been so timid with her requests, now greedy and impatient seeking pleasure, indulging Elise in a fantasy embarrassingly filthy. 

“Is this —, hah, ahh, does that feel good?” It felt wonderful for Elise, fluttering arousal turned into sharp twinges from her belly all the way down. She felt them each time she pushed her fingers back into Rozenmarine, biting down moans that were still miserably audible despite her best efforts, trying not to rush; and ignoring the delightful pressure between her own legs. 

“Oh, oh Elise,” Rozenmarine whimpered, “mmmh–, mhh–, y-yes,” encouraging Elise to steadily go faster, soon reaching that same pace as Rozenmarine had before. Rozenmarine’s muscles tensed and relaxed in sudden spasms and Elise felt a wet spot spread on her shirt, Rozenmarine’s mouth pressed against it, hot drool rapidly cooling against the night’s breeze. Cries of pleasure toppled over each other; how quickly Rozenmarine was racing towards her own relief, no doubt, desperate having been so close before — and Elise almost thought it was a shame, for it to be over so quickly, were it not for the rush she felt having Rozenmarine come undone. 

And yet, Rozenmarine held on, teetering on the edge, always so close. She tried so hard, Elise could tell by her desperate attempts to stifle her moans and cries, reducing them to strangled grunts between gasps for air. She was clenching around Elise’s fingers, eyes squeezed shut, all just to drag it out a little longer, savor it for one more moment. She was doing so well, and Elise wanted to reward her; her free hand settled on Rozenmarine thigh and pushed her legs apart a bit more. Her thighs were tense, wiry muscles pulled taunt beneath soft pale skin. Dark hair grew on the inside of her thighs, denser higher up along her thigh, the individual strands felt coarse against Elise’s thumb as she ran her hands up and down Rozenmarine’s legs. Her hand on the inside of Rozenmarine’s thigh, wrapping around so much of it with her long fingers, her thumb tracing patterns enjoying the texture of hair and skin, and Rozenmarine being so willing, yielding and spreading her legs as far as she could — just so Elise could reach a little better, push her fingers a little deeper and curl them just right. 

Then, her hips jerking out of rhythm, Rozenmarine could not endure it any longer. Her body jolted, the heels of her feet painfully pushing into Elise’s hips were they were wrapped around her. Twitching started from her hips, to her torso and shoulders, relief crashed into her sudden and intensely. She grabbed Elise’s wrist, her hold was almost painful.

“I…Elise…no more…,” she choked out panting for air, eyes open in shock. She was leaning on Elise’s shoulder for support. Her muscles grew slack, sinking against Elise bit by bit, until she loosened her hold on Elise’s wrist again.

They were both trying to catch their breath. Rozenmarine’s head was resting on Elise’s chest, her body limb and heaving. Elise pulled out her fingers with an awkward plop! that had both of them blushing. They both stared rather stupefied at Elise’s hands between them, thoroughly coated in fluids, skin wrinkly and soaked. It looked weird and not at all like Elise’s hand, the fluid covering it was thick and clingy. Tentatively she moved each of her fingers, balling her fist and wriggling them relieving pain and tension, before she hurriedly as if she just realized what she was really looking at wiped it on her pants. Come tomorrow she would be washing them and remember, looking at each stain and suddenly be very interested in looking for Rozenmarine. 

“Are you…  how do you feel?” Elise asked as Rozenmarine’s breathing calmed down, and small tremors stopped making her shudder from time to time. 

“Mh–mm, good,” Rozenmarine nodded, weakly still, and her voice was hoarse, much rougher than Elise had ever heard it. “But, uhm, Elise… uhm, what about you?”

“Ah, er,” Elise wanted to be gracious, stoic or aloof, or something, anything but pathetically needy. It’s fine, she wanted to say, and she tried, with a dismissive wave of her hand she said, “Oh, I am alright, you don’t have to…” and cringed, nobody would have bought what she was selling, not even kind Rozenmarine. 

“Uhm, I don’t mind,” Rozenmarine replied, and then, because she was still Rozenmarine, and had, as always, looked right through Elise, she said, “Actually, I, I really really want to.”

“If, if you insist…” Elise mumbled. The relief on her face must have been obvious. Rozenmarine nodded with such earnest determination in response, it was a little bit embarrassing, but she was grateful to keep whatever remained of her dignity, spared from asking Rozenmarine to take care of her, and allowed to pretend that she wasn’t as desperate as she was. She knew her drawers had to be ruined at this point, some of the fabric stuck uncomfortably against her skin whenever she moved. The thought, though, of taking them off….

“I don’t know,” Elise admitted, and Rozenmarine halted, her eager hands awfully close to the buttons of Elise’s shirt, “I don’t know, if I can, err, if I can, you know,” between hemming and hawing, Elise shot meaningful glances to the pile of clothing not far away.

“Ah,” Rozenmarine looked a little surprised, before she got awfully flustered, “well, you don’t have to, uhm, you know, we could just, — without taking off your clothes.” Diligently she straightened out Elise’s collar, like that would make her anymore presentable with Elise’s hair all over the place, most of it somehow loose and outside the ponytail, and her ribbon horribly crooked; and Elise’s shirt creased all over, almost pulled out of her trousers. 

Honestly, it probably wouldn’t matter whether Elise had cloth on or not, anyone with eyes would have been able to tell. Still, Elise just couldn’t quite get comfortable with the idea of stripping naked in the middle of the woods, and it seemed that Rozenmarine was suddenly rather enamored with the idea of them staying on.

Rozenmarine pushed her back a little, forcing Elise to prop herself up with her hands and elbows, torso halfway between lying and sitting. A dull ache throbbed through Elise’s right wrist, and a pebble pressed painfully into the palm of her other, but Elise could care less; face to face, Elise looked at Rozenmarine, sweaty, with marks of Elise’s kisses all across her collarbones and chest, hair a complete mess, the prettiest Elise had ever seen her. With bated breath they both watched Rozenmarine’s hands oh so slowly trail down Elise’s shirt. She traced the seam all the way down, and Elise had to muffle an excited moan as the tips of her fingers pressed along the valley of her breasts and then over the tense muscles of her stomach, to come to rest on her belt buckle. Rozenmarine hesitated, she glanced at Elise before she pulled at the latch. 

Rozenmarine wetted her lips, and for a moment, Elise was so distracted by that, until she heard the clasp of her belt buckle unfasten. Ah, Rozenmarine eagerly undoing her belt, fingers clumsy with hunger, Elise could barely breathe, hollow gasps unable to fill her empty lungs. This was… she had fantasized about this very thing so often, and the image of it, squeezed the air out of her lungs and—

“W-wait!” 

They both flinched at Elise’s outburst, and Rozenmarine pulled her hands back, raising her open and empty palms to prove her own innocence. Concern shone in her wide eyes; Elise couldn't stand it, averting hers before covering her face with one of her hands hoping to hide an humiliated and frustrated grimace. 

“Elise?” After receiving no response, Rozenmarine tried again, “Did I go too fast?”, then she said quite unhappily, “...did I make you uncomfortable?”

Ah, what was it with the self-deprecating nonsense, when it was obviously nothing Rozenmarine had done. Elise groaned, she couldn't let that stand could she? Even if all she wanted right now was to sink into the ground, hoping no one would ever find her, a wretched pile of embarrassed misery. She hadn't even meant to interrupt, the sudden panic had surprised herself as much as it had Rozenmarine.

“No,” she grumbled, “it’s just…”, she was grateful for the hand covering her face, “I am just…what if…what if I am bad at this…”

“Bad at this?” Rozenmarine parroted. “I don't think I understand.”

For goodness sake, what was there to not understand? Usually Rozenmarine was so good at picking up on these things, reading Elise like a picture book. 

“It's…What if I can't…feel it right, what if it's too much…” Elise admitted. “...what if I can't… you know…”

“Oh Elise,” Rozenmarine took ahold of Elise’s hand and gently lowered it, “It's not about that, I just want to make you feel good.” Rozenmarine cradled Elise's face in both her hands, thumbs stroking over Elise’s cheek. “If it's too much, or it feels uncomfortable, I'll stop.”

“But, er, won't you be disappointed?” Elise knew she would be. Though it seemed Rozenmarine thought differently, shaking her head, not unkindly, and Elise knew that again she was being silly. 

“There is no way you could disappoint me,” Elise wanted to object, thinking of a number of ways she could horribly disappoint Rozenmarine, but Rozenmarine smiled at her and it made Elise want to believe her. 

“If you really don't want to, that is fine, Elise,” Rozenmarine said, though the ‘but’ remained unspoken, Elise could hear it clearly. They both knew better anyway, this was not a question of want. It was so frustrating, wanting something, being offered everything she wanted only to deny herself. Elise sighed. 

“I never said I didn't want to, it's just scary, I suppose.” 

Rozenmarine agreed with a hum, “but it's fine if it's just the two of us, right? There is nothing to be scared about.” 

When Elise nodded shyly, Rozenmarine leaned over to give her a kiss, loving and firm and altogether too short. It must have shown on Elise's face, because Rozenmarine giggled before kissing her again. It felt so good, Rozenmarine's lips and tongue, so tender with Elise, and the smell of her breath, strange but comforting, made Elise feel so warm. 

“Can I…?” Rozenmarine asked and Elise stuttered a shaky “y-yes” in reply.

Again Rozenmarine’s hands wandered down Elise's body. This time Elise was too distracted by Rozenmarine’s lips to pay too much attention, until Rozenmarine made a frustrated little noise that Elise found rather endearing. A glance confirmed that Rozenmarine was fiddling with the buttons of her pants, hands trembling from nerves or arousal, Elise couldn't tell. She snickered, and then quickly Elise kissed away the pout on Rozenmarine's face. 

Fortunately for them both, it didn't take too long, Elise was unsure how long she could have endured it. It was a relief, Rozenmarine must have felt the same, sighing into Elise’s mouth. As Rozenmarine drew back, pushing herself upright, Elise almost whined in disappointment, the lost contact missed dearly. Elise’s breath was coming in short, and only slowly she opened her eyes to see Rozenmarine stare at her opened trousers with an intensity that made her shiver. As the moment passed, Elise began to squirm almost uncomfortably aroused by the attention.

Mercifully, Rozenmarine did not take her time. Tugging Elise's trousers down a little, Rozenmarine loosened the band of Elise's drawers just enough that she could comfortably fit her hands inside. 

Elise clenched her jaw, hoping to bite down a groan, watching Rozenmarine hesitantly sneak her hand between Elise and the drawers. When Rozenmarine’s cold hand grazed Elise's stomach, a sharp gasp escaped her, which stretched into a moan, as Rozenmarine finally touched her. 

“Oh Elise… you are… so…,” Rozenmarine whispered, “...you are so…ahh Elise,” she was getting excited, unable to hold in a moan herself. 

One of Elise’s hands had clamped over her mouth to muffle desperate gasps, each time she felt Rozenmarine’s finger against her overheated skin. Her fingers were still cold, forcing out shocked little gasps and making Elise’s muscles quiver. With only one hand Elise struggled to hold herself upright; she called out to Rozenmarine, pushing herself forward, falling into Rozemarine who instinctively wrapped her arm around her. 

Rozenmarine shifted back a little under Elise's weight, and Elise could hear the strained breathing. The light touch of Rozenmarine's fingers grew firmer, questioning strokes of her fingertips gaining confidence, emboldened by each groan and desperate twitch of Elise's hips. The heat between Elise’s legs was almost unbearable, wrought with sudden pangs of arousal and pleasure. In waves the sensations crashed into her, and soon Elise’s hands clutched Rozenmarine’s shoulder, seeking anything to hold onto; eye's squeezed shut, Elise pressed her face into the soft skin of her neck, hopelessly trying to quieten those sounds she couldn't hold back. 

Elise really had not needed to worry. Having focused her attention on Rozenmarine, her own arousal pushed aside for so long, Elise was, embarrassingly quickly rushing towards her own relief, her body desperate for it and for the pleasure it brought. And unlike Rozenmarine Elise could not wait, letting herself go under Rozenmarine’s fingers.  

It was almost frightening, the way it built in her belly a hot pressure waiting for releasing, a tugging sensation all the way down. She whined helplessly, and overwhelmed by it, ah, she was so close, Rozenmarine was whispering soothing words into her ear that Elise was too far gone already to understand. Her fingers felt so good, and Elise felt so warm, and then, with one last, sharp, almost painful sudden wave of pleasure Elise cried into her shoulder. 

It was so sudden, Elise felt dazed, surprised by the sensation that kept echoing through her body in sudden jerks of pleasure until they slowly faded leaving Elise exhausted and oversensitive. She barely noticed Rozenmarine pulling her hand back out, out of the corner of her eyes she caught Rozenmarine staring at her hand in wonder before she tried to wipe it on her own thigh, leaving sticky trails glistening on her skin. 

Two arms wrapped around Elise gently, and grateful she sagged into Rozenmarine, breath still escaping her, head still delightfully foggy. It took a good while before Elise was able to string a thought together in her head, each time she tried, the memory of pleasure making her shiver. 

Rozenmarine was idly playing with her hair, making tiny little braids she let fall apart before doing another one. It was soothing, and Elise closed her eyes, listening to Rozenmarine’s steady breath. 

“I love you,” Elise mumbled and Rozenmarine giggled happily in response.

“See, that wasn't so scary was it,” had Rozenmarine always been this cheeky? Weren't you supposed to be graceful about this kind of thing? 

“Shush,” Elise replied, but felt too lazy to bother with much else. She nuzzled Rozenmarine’s neck, and then groaned as reality slowly crept back in. 

“Is everything alright?” 

“There is no way we can go back into Kieferberg tonight,” she groused. All her things were at Leb’s place anyway, and she wasn't going to sneak Rozenmarine in like some lovesick teenager. 

“I have a room at the inn, but…,” Rozenmarine said, even she had realized that that was a bad idea in the state they were in. 

Making the trek all the way up the mountain to their house was also out of the question, Elise was far too exhausted to bother with that; and it wasn't like they could stay there anyway dusted over and falling apart as it was. The last time Elise had checked on it, she had spotted a leak in the attic… Elise sighed, flopping backwards into the grass. 

“Elise?” 

Above them the stars twinkled despite the full moon's bright shine. What did Rozenmarine see when she looked up at night, Elise had asked herself that so many times. Did she have names for every star in the night sky? Would she tell Elise all about them, there were so many things Elise did not know about the stars, about Rozenmarine. Not yet, but she wanted to hear them all, learn every little thing. And with time she would; learn of and from Rozenmarine, growing together, mapping out the night sky, new moon to full moon, spring to winter. 

Elise reached for Rozenmarine, and with a gentle tug pulled her down on top of her. 

“What do you think about sleeping under the stars tonight?” she asked.

Happy as can be, Rozenmarine settled into her arms, nestling her head against Elise's shoulder. All that stuff could wait, the house, Kieferberg, it didn't matter. Just for tonight; it was only Elise, Rozenmarine, the stars and the moon.