Sleep, Little Raindrop
*Pokes my head in* So, uh, I heard some of you's guys are trying to make Opalis a thing, so here's my, uh, incredibly fluffy super gay fic thing. Can't believe I'm writing crack fics at 3am orz
Lapis Lazuli had sworn off fusion altogether, in the wake of finally being free of Malachite, deep, swirling swaths of acidic green would forever haunt her, flashing against her lids if she kept them closed long enough. Plenty of naps brought on by lazing beneath a summer sky, or an evening twilight, would have her bolting up, taking in a cadence of heavy breaths, and summoning her wings for an entirely unplanned flight to work off the adrenaline that ran her insides frigid.
She'd sworn off fusion, yes, but finding peace in the company of one had been entirely unplanned.
Lapis found herself reclining, no, outright /sinking/ into the silken, star emblazoned drape that hung down the cut of Opal's tunic, coming to curl against her back, the very tip pooling over folded knees, currently resting in the clearing that stretched from the barn that had become her wary place of residence. Lapis didn't spend much time indoors, anything that wasn't the sky around her felt confining, cloying, and would eventually have her storming out with little more than a snatch of sentence shared as she took to the skies.
She'd dearly missed flying, but as of late, she'd found that staying put had it's advantages, namely, if it meant being like this. Finding bliss in a fusion comprised of Amethyst and Pearl had been unexpected, but it was to be considered that competents were separate, even as they came together to form a whole, that being Opal, wonderful, peaceful, currently softly humming Opal. She was pulled from a fog of her own making by a pair of digits tenderly stroking through her navy tresses, eliciting a soft sigh from the much smaller gems mouth as a result.
How long had it been since she'd been treated so carefully, as if she could break, splinter and crack as she had once done? But it was different now, Opal had every intention to soothe, to hold her close in four lean arms as long as she liked. Sometimes, they'd share a few words, but neither were talkative gems, by nature, or experience, it was a shared, trusting silence, and it suit them just fine.
A thumb pooled beneath her chin as those two fingers stroked from hairline to crown, kneading careful whorls into the cerulean skin of her collarbone, lifting her chin up just so as the soft, heavenly fingers effectively reduced her to a fluttery eyed puddle, fitting, given her prowress. Opal was still humming, and each note brought threads of warmth throughout her limbs, and urged a speckle of golden dust to coat her cheeks. Fingers and toes flared and curled, as if making to return even a fraction of the gesture, which was met with a melodious, knowing chuckle deep within Opal's swan like throat.
Lapis's stroked sluggishly at the nearest palm, and had she currently not been in the process of becoming haplessly overcome with sensation, she'd have formed a watery palm of her own, one just big enough to join hands where her own just couldn't quite fit. Sensing the little bubbles of frustration rising even in the Lazurites most subdued gestures, the towering fusion dipped her head, moulding her periwinkle lips against the ocean gems temple, soothing her errant squirms, the content, precariously flustered noise that left her much of it's own reward, for it wasn't often she made anyone keenly aware of anything that would overwhelm her, senses or otherwise.
She'd visit as often as she could, if it meant making the troubled water witch smile, which, with another brush of lips, did exactly that, Lapis pivoting forward to thread her fingers through a puff of a ponytail that hung over her shoulder, and as the petite blue gem inhaled the sweet, flora aroma, she felt her eyes dip shut, pillowing her entire being into the poof of hair, sleep beginning to peek into the nooks and crannies of her consciousness. A slender palm cushioned her gem, coming to cup the entirety of her, to cradle, to hold, and a gentle, musical murmur of "Pleasant dreams" Chased after her last waking moments, all too easily tipping down into pleasant slumber.