They needed to help each other up, to help each other move, but he couldn't at all help himself: some wordless need drove the motion of his hips and he did not at all expect her to respond in kind. The Hoxian grinned when the Hessean giggled, the rush of the unintentional experiment sending a blazing heat down the dark lines etched under his skin over his spine. He nodded as if it meant something and moved, carefully this time, extricating himself from beneath her lovely body, uncaring of everything he left behind for this moment.
Hands on each other, steadying their chan-dizzied selves, Ezre dragged her away from the openness of the common area between his dorm's four suites. He would have reached more quickly to turn the bolt, making sure to lock his bedroom door for the first time since his arrival at Brunnhold, but Lilanee paused right there and reached up behind her, leaving the mystery mysterious while her fingers found familiar clasps he'd have to learn about later. Stepping closer while she looked at him so coyly, he hummed some quiet words of Deftung, untranslatable praises of her attractiveness that were celestial in inspiration, snaking one arm around her while he heard the satisfying click of his lock.
Alone, really alone, together, the boy allowed himself a much more indulgent kiss, merged fields bright in their expressive shifts of color. He forgot to breathe, however, finding it difficult to remember how to inhale and exhale in proper time, and reluctantly drew away to do so, using the moment to ignore how weak his knees felt and how much his whole self seemed to be burning from within and to show off the way the tattoos visible across the landscape of his entire upper body were connected or at least created a composition together. She traced over the markings, featherlight touch accompanied by a flurry of whispered, excited words,
"Zjai, there have been a few who have left the Hexxos after choosing their path to follow another, but it is sometimes a challenge to overcome some of the, uh, cultural expectations that surround my people." He whispered back, finding it difficult to string syllables together, breath ragged while she explored all she could see. His dark eyes strayed from her hands, to her face, watching her lips while she spoke further, answering her ramblings with his own because the words filled the heated space between them while he stood so still, heart pounding against his sternum so fiercely that surely she could feel the rhythm of it beneath the pads of her fingers. As if it wasn't already too hot in here in the Anaxi summer, full of the warmth of chan and arousal, everywhere she touched, he felt so sharply just as he'd mostly attempted to feel all of his tattoo process just a few weeks ago, "This work is done by a particular type of needle not used by wicks—as far as I know, it is a Hexxos technique. Of course there is pain, especially where there is less flesh, but this can be endured or mediated through altered states of mind—"
She was tracing her way lower and he cut his explanation short, admiring the view he had of the blossoming of color warming her cheeks, her chest—the Hessean slowly—finally—removed her already unclasped bra, revealing her own, freckled and flushed but not marked by a single line of ink skin. Dark eyes took in the upper body the young woman presented him with just as much shared vulnerability, and his hands wandered gently, exploring what pleased her.
His question slipped unbidden from his lips as needful words of wanting. He wanted her to see the rest of his inked skin, not just to admire the visual representation of his religious status, of his second coming of age in a way, but also because he simply longed to be seen. By her. He wanted someone to see all of him, clearly, without his Hoxian-necessitated layers or even the formalized Hexxos veil that he'd so willingly chosen to wear, the one that stripped him of any claimable identity in order to span the gap between the secular and the sacred.
Ezre followed the motion of her periwinkle gaze, the implied meaning of her flustered words not lost on him because he was just as, if not moreso, achingly aware of their physical differences at the moment. He exhaled roughly, hints of sounds that were more consonants than vowels mumbled in agreement, watching in a rapt, dizzy helplessness the way her fingers teased along the waist of his pants and finally tugged on the simple tie that held the loose, linen garment in place.
His hands trailed away from her, over her arms, downward to drift behind himself, slipping beneath hems of two layers and moving in time to the loosening of the careful knot that held his pants in place, "Zjai, our bodies are different, and I, uh, I cannot hide how excitement expresses itself so unavoidably. Thus far, however, our bodies feel nice together, yours and mine." He murmured with equal boldness, though there was a nervous edge to his tone and a tension that drew his field closer to his person in anticipation, letting his pants pool at his ankles in a whisper of fabric.
The tawny landscape of his Hoxian skin indeed continued, and it was, as had been expected, decorated with more lines in mirrored patterns all the way to the tops of his now-hidden feet. The triangular path of the tattoos Lilanee had just traced ended surprisingly close to the low-cut hem of his rather traditional-looking and totally not Anaxi-originated undergarment. The glorified cotton sling was certainly unnecessary for any form of support at the moment, and his fingers were untying the single knot in the back without particularly waiting for any further permissions to be exchanged, unsure of the view Lilanee was actually expecting. It was not shame that caused the dark-haired boy to hesitate so much as a very strong sense of self-consciousness: without any metaphorical or physical layers left of himself, he would be more than just naked in body before the Hessean he very much enjoyed the company of.
What if, in seeing him—all of him—so clearly, she realized she didn't like what there was to see? Gods, he'd never worried about any moment between them before and the anxiety that crawled through chan-laced veins was a totally new feeling he wasn't sure he'd ever really felt before, protected beneath the comforts of his rhakor.
Much as she had with her bra, Ezre stood there for an awkward span of heartbeats, clinging to fabric, and smiled for lack of any better expression to make with his face, the heavy, heady mix of emotions that churned through his whole self obvious on his delicate features,
"Now, of all moments, I fear your disapproval." He whispered, uncurling his grip with great effort, dark eyes meeting her pale hues with what steadiness he could summon as his ears rang and his breath hitched, "I am not used to feeling afraid."