Selfies from last week!! Sunchild & I got up at 4am twice over Zelink Week for sunrise photos at the beach πΉ I'm excited to share them, but I have another evening of editing before they're done. So in the meantime, I give you this humble offering πββοΈ
Everything I'm wearing belongs to or was made by Sunchild, except for the bracers which I made!
When the curtain of night falls he knows sheβll be there lingering in his thoughts and in his head. The tent he sleeps in will do nothing to stop the way she has him mumbling in his sleep for her. As if exulting and seizing his dreams from him. He had thought he could resist the pull she had on him from the moment she stared down from the wall upon him. Those doe-eyes of hers, large and glittering like a jewel when blessed by the sun, sliding delicately over his face. He wishes he had known back then how that look would echo inside his mind with no desire to give him any form of respite. He cannot though, and more importantly he does not want to. No, instead he canβt help but insist on drowning himself in her.
Thereβs no cure for this attachment that grips him in the darkness. The ache that builds in his chest as he dreams of her so close but so far away, nestled away across camp in her own tent. Tightness nettling him every time they separate. Heβs besotted and enamored with her. Desperately. Achingly.
Sheβs dangerous to him. Distracting him in the midst of battle and making him preen at the smallest of praisesβfar too eager to please her. Itβs subconscious the way his eyes follow her as she fights, preparing to jump in should anything start to go wrong. Fingers twitching to strike down those who come to her with the intent to harm.
These dreams of her dangle before him with sweetness and lightning. Soft touches across his skin that send his heart soaring in anticipation. Slick sweat covered skin, supple and soft, against his own making it impossible to keep himself quiet. He has no business enjoying them and the blur they cast over the line of sovereign and knight. Yet, he does and cannot stop. Not when she stands so close to him he can feel the heat of her skin, nor the thrill that spreads across his being when he presses her against him in protection.
Heβs losing his mind every time they come in contact, giving fuel to these fantasies of his. The ground beneath his feet crumbling with each interaction, eager to swallow him inside it and over the edge of propriety. Desperate he had tried to ignore these things. Tried to pretend he was not ensnared so deeply by her. That this was something that would pass because there was no way she was giving him more praise or attention than anyone elseβbut then the whispers of the other knights had floated within his ears, daring to point out how she comes into his space a little too often. The way her body leans forward to give her the best angle to look up into his eyes and how she pauses, at her own determent, in the midst of battle if she hears him yell out, decorated in concern and startle.
Those whispers had done nothing to help him win the war against her continued carousel inside his head. No, they had instead grabbed him by the top of his head forcibly dunking him beneath the water refusing to let him up for air until he gave in no longer struggling as the water filled his lungs. Those attempts to ignore her and the way she flooded him completely pointless as he felt his ego inflate that he may have indeed caught her attention.
The flex of his finger tips the next time he had seen her was instant. Possessive. That possessiveness almost enough to have him finally shatter that thin line of propriety between themβalmost. Itβs those knowing red eyes of the general that keep him in check. That stare at him in caution to not overstep as if knowing he has already blurred the line deep in the night inside a place no one else could possibly enter.
Yes, sheβs dangerous to him.
Impa is steadfast in her subtle glances to remind him of that.
That reminder is no where to be found, though, when him and the princess become separated from the rest of their group onto enemy lines. His hand pressed firm against her mouth to keep her heavy breaths for air silent as he presses her as deeply as he can against the rocky wall. Fingers twitching upon the hilt of the Master Sword, should he have to act quick and fast to the threat that sounds too close for comfort. The ghosting of hands around his bracer seizes his air and has the tension in his muscles become even tighter. Like clockwork heβs been submerged below the water that is her. The way she cradles his arm against her as she pulls it from her mouth has him leaning in for an entirely different reason.
The smell of her fills his nose as it circles and swirls over him. That smell, a combination of sweat, metal and something akin to vanilla, is going to haunt him when he sleeps tonight. Her frame is so small compared to his. Noses brush and breath mixes in the barely there space between them. His body hums at the feel of her warm chest beneath his hand, something entirely done by her not him, as she keeps his forearm firm in her grasp. That line he keeps blurring at night is about to become a reality instead of firmly locked behind a dream he keeps tucked inside his tent if he does not pull away from her. Deep desire and impure bliss so close as he gazes at those bright blue of hers through heavy half-lids.
Even adorned in armor and cloth she still feels soft against him. That imagination of his hadnβt ran wild, no they had been entirely calculative and certain of how she would fit and feel when pressed tightly against him. The tightness nettling him now does so for entirely different reasons as he stands atop this tightrope. Itβs only with the last dredges of control that he keeps his hand, that had been ghosting upon the hilt of the Master Sword, from her. Choosing instead to place it against the wall. Heβs teetering and he knows it when he dares to tuck his knee between her legs.
Sheβs so warm, so soft, and if he just lets himself shift his weight forward a touch his lips will press against hers. Itβs agonizing how he pathetically continues to battle with himself over stations and propriety, even as sheβs looking at him like thatβparted plush lips, face flushed in rose, and eyes glittering up at him in a way that would have him absolutely pliant before her should she just say the word. Heβs so far beyond besotted in this moment. He is a man enraptured and despondent to have her praise him for more than just his feats on the battlefieldβheβs corneredby the nirvana that is her.
He needs her to push him back not keep him gripped to her.
She knows this shouldnβt occur just as much as him.
Yet, sheβs teetering over the very same line he is.
The shudder that escapes her has a groan threatening to release itself from deep inside his diaphragmβand then his heart freezes and frustration spreads like wildfire through his veins as Impaβs voice calls out for her. Close. The general is close and he is but a shift of weight away from being across the line with his sovereign, who had equally been obliging in said acts. The bite against his bottom lip is harsh. Vexation burns inside him tearing his gaze from her in a desperate attempt to looking up at the sky. The release of his forearm makes him feel incredibly chilled compared to the raging fire she had been making him become. A heavy breath escapes his lips, a futile attempt to ease the feelings he has no business having in this moment. Neither of them had truly tried to stop this. In enemy territory no less.
The look that comes between them leaves no question.
Itβs another look that echoes through his own and back to her.
If this had been anywhere elseβbut itβs not and now his entire body is soaked in chilled vexation, cold without her warmth enveloping him.
Slowly he backs away, just in time, as Impa rushes around the corner and straight to her, checking for injury. Lips press firmly together and eyes keep themselves locked onto the floor so he doesnβt dare have them meet his generalβs. He knows the sins he almost committed would be painted across his skin in bright colors and decorated lavishly on his face should he allow even a fleeting glance.
Heβs out of his mind having allowed himself to have practically unraveled in front of his sovereign. The tick of his jaw is a subconscious but subtle response as he feels Impaβs eyes trailing over him. Fingers flex at his sides as he gives a far tighter response then he intends to her question of if heβs injured, βNo.β
The all out assault he makes on their enemies does nothing to quell the frustration that remains. It does nothing to stem the flood of ache that is heavier than ever before. Prided still swells in him as she sings praises for his efforts in this victory, but even that cannot truly ease it in this moment. He cannot recall another time he had felt like this. After everything that had almost happened between them there is no doubt she will have him talking in his sleep more than ever.
Subtle curiosity settles over him as he daringly lets his eyes wander over her.
Is she, too, plagued by him?
He wishes he could know.
A loose strand of gold has escaped its hold making his fingers beg to reach out and tuck it behind her ear. The way she brushes it back without thought and the way her eyes skim across his face as she does feels like a moment caught in time. The smile she has is soft and thatβs enough to send his heart fluttering as if commanded to. Swallowing thickly he dares to, what he hopes is just as soft, smile back and give the slightest tilt of his head in a nod.
The cloak of night covers the sky well before he can enter his tent. Fingers work without thought removing his pauldrin and bracers, and then pull the cerulean colored scarf up to slide over his head. The smell of her fills him as it brushes over his nose, that intoxicating vanilla happily teasing him as if knowing heβs alone inside his tent. His green tunic sliding up and over his head does nothing to stop the slowly growing need he has as thoughts of her this afternoon hum across his skin. Teeth sink against his bottom lip while he repeats to himself that he needs rest for the battles tomorrow, like a mantra that will keep him from sitting awake needy and desperate for her. If he must be those things at least let it be while he sleeps.
He feels so excessively warm as he lays there staring up at the ceiling of his tent. The back of his forearm slides across his face as he wills himself to sleep. Tossing and turning does nothing to validate these desperate efforts leaving him to stay firm upon his back. Impatience at wanting her in his dreams if he cannot have her when heβs awake coats him thickly. Then he feels it. Weight upon his cot. It has him tensing and keeps a breath held tightly inside his lungs. The glide of a hand upon his thigh sending the most thrilling sensations up to his stomach, making his already warm skin hotter. The shudder he releases is involuntary, a complete loss of control, when fingers slide up his issued blanket far too close to his swelling cock. Shifting his forearm up just a touch allows him to dare a peak and there is no way he hasnβt somehow fallen asleep because there is no possibility that she would be so daring as to have entered his tent in the dead of the night, to crawl upon him in his cot where anyone could catch them no less.
Those touches she makes are exactly as he dared to dream of being touched by her and her alone. The bob of his Adamβs apple is heavy as he keeps his forearm tightly in place across his eyes not daring to look at her further, leaving him with the sensations and darkness. Nimble fingers slide against his length soliciting heavy puffs of air from his lips. The press of her palm against it has him involuntarily thrusting eagerly to create more delicious friction and pressure. Teeth sink back into his bottom lip desperate to keep the sounds that wish to spill at bay. Itβs been so long since heβs had releaseβheβs so sensitive, if she keeps doing this to him heβll lose himself to her more than he already has.
His ears and cheeks are blazing against his forearm as she starts stroking him, her thumb grazing over the head of his cock still hidden beneath the blanket. The firm press of her thumb releases a moan from deep in his diaphragm, muscles eager and jumping at the sensation, βWhat were you dreaming about?β
The whimper he lets out at hearing her voice has him shaking, proving that she held the power to make him absolutely pliant before her. Another involuntary shudder echoes through his body making him desperate to hide into his elbow, βYou.β
Those fingers of hers trail across his exposed stomach so sensually that he questions if this might actually be real, her weight shifting further up the cot. The press and weight of her against his side has him igniting just as he had this afternoon. The words that leave her mouth as her lips ghost against the shell of his ear are absolutely filthy.
Theyβre so incredibly dirty on a mouth that pretty.
He wants to watch more filth leave her mouth.
Choking he watches the way the room blurs before coming into focus as he jolts up from his pillow, fingers twisting in the sheets. The beat of his heart is heavy and fast against his chest. Sun is just beginning to spill in from the entrance of his tent, and he sits here now achingly thick and heavy with need. It had been a dream. A delicious and sinful dream. Calloused fingers slide across his face into his hair as he takes a deep breath and holds it hoping itβll ease how needy he feels. The voice heβs long ignored reminds him he should feel some kind of shame for thinking of her so lewdly, for daring to imagine her saying such words to him. His cock firm and begging for attention make it clear he continues to feel no such thing. The shame it wants him to feel is definitely present in the room but he cannot bring himself to be anything more than exuberant.
Itβs an unexpected visit from Proxi busting through the entrance of his tent that has him reaching back to grab his pillow stuffing it firmly on his lap, escalating his awareness of his situation and reminding him where he sitsβin a war camp where anyone could truly walk in on him, including her. Thereβs an emergency meeting and heβs expected to attend. The effort to make the fairy leave is more than he has in his reserves right now, as all he desires is just a moment to collection himself. That dream had done more than just make him talk inside his sleep.
The deepest of inhales settles in his chest as he falls back against the cot. The slide of his forearm across his eyes an effort to place him back inside that tantalizing dream so he can take care of himself. With the notice of an emergency meeting waiting outside his tent he does not have much time. Heβll have to make this quick, restricting how much deeper heβll be allowed to fantasize. He imagines itβs her hand as he grips himself shuddering and pressing his mouth against his forearm, hoping it will be enough to silence the sounds that beg to be free. He truly hasnβt done this in a while and the sensitivity he feels has him quaking as his release comes quick. The things heβs just thought of her saying to him as she helps him come is what takes him over the edge. The sigh escaping him the only moment he has for post lounge bliss. The evidence of this act is just as quickly handled and long gone before heβs walking out to head for the meeting they expect him to attend.
Thereβs a touch of shy to him, perhaps something more akin to a haze, as he walks forward fidgeting with his bracer still partially lost in the bliss of his release. That haze keeps him deep inside its gentle hands as he watches her walk toward him. The yawn he release is small and light as his brain continues to crawl as if sleep and post release bliss has rendered it completely useless, the back of his hand pressing to shield his yawn from view. The lean she makes into his space has him take a half a step back and flutter his lids slowly as he tries to comprehend what is happening. The smell of her that had intoxicated him last night is lighter this morning as it swims delicately around his head. His tongue glides against the roof of his mouth as his actions right before standing in front of her still hums across his skin.
Tilting her head has him noticing the loose strand of gold that slides across her cheek. Words are definitely coming out of those plush lips of hers, the very same he had imagined whispering lewdly in his ear, yet itβs falling on deaf ears. Heβs too lost just watching the way her lips move, and the feel of her hairβ
Oh, heβs touched her.
And heβs pretty sure this time itβs not a dreamβand itβs in front of everyone.
Those golden strands feel velvetlike, and heβs more than sure as he watches the sun caress them that theyβll be even prettier when she has them loosely gliding across his hands and spilling over his pillows. The feel of her skin beneath his thumb has his nerves singing as it dares to slide across her cheek, his fingers settling upon her chin, becoming dangerously close to that mouth of hers he had been aching to have tease him as he sought relief.
Fingers, long and slender wrap upon his hand and wrist, and now that haze he had dared allow himself to stew inside has been ripped from him completely. Heβs all too aware now of what heβs doing, what heβs done, and in front of whom heβs done it. Whatever drunken hubris had kept him touching her is shrinking as the reality of his situation and station crushes down upon him. Panic surges through his fingers desperate to remove them as if her skin has burned him but sheβs stepping closer into his space, keeping his hand firmly where it sits just as she had the day prior. Those big blue doe-eyes of hers are lit up and coaxing as sheβs whispering in the space between them.
Heβs heard her this time.
More than heard her.
The line between sovereign and knightβtheyβre across the line.
He cannot resist her.
zelda as a character is so important to me actually. the child princess whose naivete cost the hero seven years of his life. the reincarnation of a goddess forced to use herself as bait that the hero would follow into peril time and time again. the princess who prayed and prayed but couldn't summon the power to save her kingdom until it and the hero had already been destroyed. she's so flawed. so many of her stories are about the mistakes the makes. the guilt she bears.
and link, without fail, decides that she's still worthy of protection and rescue every. single. time.
