Rules of Etiquette

That probably could have gone better.

I suppose that much was obvious given that I was still in my shirt and slacks, sitting curled up on top of my toilet in the bathroom, and quietly wondering if this was what having a panic attack felt like even three hours later after leaving the Last Note.

Either that or this was just the physiological side effect of having the foundation stones of your whole life torn from their setting and graffitied with expletives and crude pornography.

Adagio and Serenata.

Serenata and Adagio.

One and the same? Preposterous! Absolutely inconceivable! To entertain for even a moment the idea that the woman who taught me to stand tall, to walk with dignity, to never compromise the music in my heart and to always rise above my limits was no more than a villainous Siren was utterly ridiculous.

And yet… the way that Adagio had looked at me, with such happiness, and the pain on her face when I had rebuked her…

It had all felt so genuine, so sincere, and the hurt she had shown when I had slapped away her hand…

“Serenata,” I whispered, and the name echoed off the tiles of the floor. “Who are you? Who were you?”

A knock came at the door, and I wiped at my eyes before standing up, adjusting my bow tie, and taking two short strides over to open it.

Good Form stood on the other side, his expression as implacable and phlegmatic as ever.

“You have a guest at the front door, Miss Melody,” Form said courteously. “Shall I let them in?”

“Is it an arrogant-looking woman with a great deal of bright orange hair?” I asked grimly.

“No,” Form answered tonelessly, “it is a rather punky young woman with long purple hair and a green cap.”

“I don’t believe I recognize that description,” I said quietly as I stepped out of the bathroom and into the hall. “Very well, I suppose you can let them into the den.”

“As you say, Miss Melody,” Form replied with a short bow.

I took a detour into the kitchen to pour myself a measure of whiskey before stepping back out and seating myself on the long, comfortable couch. A small number of worn paperback novels littered the little end table, all of which I had finished but failed to put away, and a fire burned merrily in the hearth.

“Wow, swanky digs, Miss Grumpy-Snoot.”

I blinked in surprise at both the tone and words of my guest, and turned my head to see a vaguely familiar young woman. Her hair fell in a waterfall of violet locks down her back, and her eyes gleamed like purple gems, sharp and cold. An offensively green, pin-covered ball cap was settled on her head, cocked at a rakish angle, and she was dressed in ripped jeans, two layers of equally distressed t-shirts, and was hanging up a denim coat on the rack by the wall.

While she was turned away I noticed she had the sleeve on one side rolled up revealing an excellently executed if relatively fresh tattoo, but she turned back to me before I could identify it.

“I beg your pardon?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “No, wait, I know you… you’re the other sister aren’t you? Aria Blaze!”

Aria smirked and nodded. “Yeah, and I hear you took my big sister to church in front of God and everyone.”

I grimaced.

“That was not my intention,” I said stiffly before taking a drink. “But she had it coming.”

Aria held up her hands in mocking surrender.

“Hey, I’m not here to argue that,” she said, still smirking, then her expression hardened a little and she shrugged. “Okay, maybe I’m here to argue it a little… Sonata wasn’t sure how to talk to you, and Adagio hasn’t left her room since you slapped her down, so it’s pretty much up to me.”

“And is there any particular reason I should listen?” I asked tersely. “Or for that matter why I shouldn’t have Good Form remove you from my apartment?”

“Your Butler is good but he isn’t ‘five centuries of practice at hand-to-hand’ good,” Aria said, her lips curling angrily. “And you made my big sister shed tears… now I know better than anyone that Adagio can be a USDA-certified slab of bitch, but she’s still my sister, so that’s not something I can ignore.”

“Then tell me where I can find Serenata,” I snapped, sitting up and staring Aria in the face. “Serenata Dazzle! Tell me who and where she is!”

Aria’s features softened as she stared at me, and I felt curiously frightened for a moment, as if I were being observed by something much bigger and more dangerous than I had reckoned. Her eyes glinted gravely in the low firelight of my apartment, and there was something restless in her… a kind of supple, relaxed violence that had me backing up on the couch by reflex.

“Serenata… that’s a name I haven’t heard in a minute,” Aria said in a low voice. “But sure, I’ll tell you: Serenata is all three of us, technically speaking.”

“You… she… what?!” I stuttered, staring in surprise.

Aria scoffed and dropped down onto the couch, then snapped her fingers twice before fixing a sharp look on me.

“It’s a pseudonym all three of us used interchangeably,” she explained as Good Form approached with a glass of whiskey matching my own. “Serenata Dazzle doesn’t exist, she never did. If you ever met her, or saw her signature, or read her name, it was one of us.” She took a sip, gave the glass an approving glance, and took another. “We did it so we could pretend to be descendents of prior ‘Serenata Dazzles’, keep money in the ‘family’ y’know? And no one questions someone who has their grandmother’s name so long as we can answer their questions accurately.”

I worked my jaw in shock and disbelief. I didn’t want to believe her but there was a limit to reasonable doubt and denial. Moreover, Aria wasn’t trying to sweet talk me, or get anything out of me. She was here with an axe to grind over…

Over how I had treated her sister.

Adagio… Serenata… oh god.

“What have I done?” I whispered, my voice coming out reedy and weak. “I… I said such things to her… to Sere-, no… to Adagio.”

“Yeah ya did,” Aria replied grumpily. “Ugh… look, this is really not my bag, but lately I’ve been loosening up a lot thanks to-” her hand came up to rest on her tattoo and she sighed. “Fuck, just go talk to her, alright?”

My eyes lingered on her tattoo, and how her long fingers idly traced the edges of the lines and colors. She looked distant, and I saw her glance out the window towards what I thought was the Canterlot University campus more than once.

“Your tattoo… you didn’t have it those years ago at Canterlot High, right?” I asked tentatively.

“Nah, it’s new,” Aria confirmed. “Got it a week ago for my girlfriend, she got one too.”

“She must be very special,” I said softly, and felt just a little jealous at the warmth in Aria’s voice as she spoke of her.

Aria smiled, and for a moment I blinked in confusion. The gentle expression on her face seemed completely at odds with her bellicose personality.

“Yeah,” Aria said in a gruffly happy voice. “Yeah, she’s pretty great.”

“What’s her name?” I ventured, leaning against the couch as I took another sip.

“Seriously?” Aria asked, raising an eyebrow. “What do you think her name is?”

She angled the tattoo towards me and tapped it a few times and I stared for a moment. It was an evening horizon over the ocean, a wash of blues, purples, reds, oranges, and golds that captured the vista wonderfully.

“What do you mean?” I asked after a moment. “It’s just a picture of a sunse-”

Oh.

“You can’t be serious,” I said flatly, and Ari gave me a smug grin. “Sunset Shimmer and Aria Blaze… what has the world come to?”

“Dunno, but it comes there a lot,” Aria replied with a toothy grin.

I felt my cheeks burn, and I raised a hand to my face, blowing out a frustrated sigh as I did.

“Did you come here to admonish me, or spout childish innuendos?” I bit the words out with a touch of annoyance.

“Why not both?” Aria replied, still smirking. But after a moment her face softened to something more serious. “Really though, ya wanna know why I’m here? It’s because…” she worked her jaw for a few minutes before flushing, rather prettily to my surprise, “because I’m in love, alright? I love Sunset like fucking crazy. I’m absolutely batshit for her, okay? And you want to know why I’m telling you this mushy crap?”

“Bragging?” I ventured dryly.

“Damn right!” Aria snarled, gesturing with her whiskey. “But y’know, secondary to that is so you’ll know that I know what I’m talking about when I say this next thing.”

I scowled, I wasn’t sure why her being in love was relevant. It was romantic, certainly, and I couldn’t deny I was just a little jealous at how obvious it was. Aria was practically luminous with her feelings for Sunset; she really did wear her emotions right on her sleeve.

Given the location of her tattoo that was actually more literal than not.

“Alright,” I said finally, “go on… what’s this thing you want to say?”

“Adagio loved you, you absolute moron,” Aria said dryly.

I stared, and from somewhere around me I heard glass shatter. I glanced down to see the tumbler of whiskey I’d been holding laying on the ground in pieces, but I couldn’t properly account for how it had gotten there.

“I… n-no… what?” My eloquence has failed me yet again as I flailed for some kind of word or explanation. “T-that’s preposterous! Absolutely mad! It’s been better than fifteen years since I’ve even seen the woman!”

“And? That’s nothing for a Siren,” Aria replied, shaking her head. “It might have been fifteen years for you, but remember we’ve lived millennia, so fifteen years is kind of…” Aria gestured noncommittally with a roll of wrist, “it’s barely any time at all.”

I worked my jaw for a few moments, trying to find a hole in her argument. Before I could wrangle my scattered thoughts, though, Aria continued.

“I still remember the day we had to leave, alright?” Aria pressed, and she actually looked pained. “Adagio was inconsolable… she wanted to stay but we had to move on, we’d outstayed our welcome as it was, fed too long in one place, see?” She took another sip and sighed. “She mourned you for almost a straight year after we left Canterlot, because she knew that with how we traveled it might be decades before we were back in area and she'd probably never see you again.”

“But you returned less than ten years later,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “The Battle of the Bands… it was-”

“-luck,” Aria cut me off. “We happened to be a few towns away at the time, just passing through and grabbing a bite at a diner, when we felt the Elements go off on Sunset.”

“Oh,” I leaned back on the couch and stared down at the shattered glass.

“Yeah, we wouldn’t have come back around for a long time otherwise,” Aria said quietly. “It had been almost a century since I’d seen Adagio actually cry before we left Canterlot that night, but she cried for you, alright?”

“Why?” I asked in a small voice. “Why me?”

“Not my place to say,” Aria replied before finishing off her whiskey. “Thanks for the drink, Snoots, I’m gonna go pound my girlfriend into her mattress now, but do me a favor and talk to ‘Dagi, alright?”

I grimaced at the crudity of her words.

“Why would she ever speak to me after-”

“-because she loved you, dumbass!” Aria repeated loudly over my words. “Just go, okay? She’s probably still in her room, but I’d hurry because when she finally does get her wits back together she’ll probably try to drink her feelings under the table.”

Good Form swept by with a broom and tidied up the shattered remains of my glass as I met Aria’s eyes.

I let out a slow breath after a moment and nodded.

“Good,” Aria said firmly before pointing a finger at my face. “Don’t fuck this up, alright?”

“I’ll do my best,” I replied dryly.

Aria left with as much fanfare as she’d arrived with, which was a swagger and a raised middle finger. Considering who she was related I could hardly imagine her being Adagio’s sister, but then again siblings were usually contentiously different in my experience, not that I would know first-hand being that I was an only child.

“Mister Form, would you kindly bring the car around to the front?” I asked as I stood.

“As you say, Miss Melody,” Form replied phlegmatically.

I imagined, however, that I could hear a pleased undertone to his response.

It was late by the time we reached the Last Note. Good Form let me out at the front and I instructed him to head back home, and that I would call when I needed him. I wasn’t certain how long this conversation would take, and there was no sense in having him idling in the parking lot for several hours.

Form gave a judicious nod and made his way out. I had the sudden urge to call him back as I saw him leaving. To just avoid this oncoming conversation entirely since I knew it would probably be emotionally harrowing.

That and, as much as it galls me to admit, I don’t apologize very well nor very gracefully.

And I certainly owed Adagio an apology if for no other reason than for how atrociously I had behaved. Especially given that I’d done so in the middle of her place of business and in full view of her employees.

I felt my heart clench in both panic and shame.

I had humiliated her. Loudly and publicly humiliated her. Had I been in her shoes I’m not sure I’d have ever forgiven whoever was at fault for it.

Aria seemed convinced she would see me though and truthfully, regardless of whether or not Adagio forgave me, I owed it to her to at least make the attempt.

Backstage fixed me with a glare but nodded me in without comment or fee. Clearly he’d been told I was coming, probably by Aria herself, and I made my way to the bar.

Sonata was cheerfully serving patrons, her hands moving with quick, certain motions as they shook, stirred, and mixed a variety of colorful cocktails and, for a few moments, I stood mesmerized at the expertise on display.

If you had asked me who among the Sirens I thought had the best hand-eye coordination I can assure you the answer would not have been: Sonata Dusk. Yet there she was, skillfully handling orders that were coming in rapid fire, as if the customers were actively testing to see how much they could get away with.

I waited for a lull in the alcoholic fusillade to approach, and I caught Sonata’s eye as I reached the bar. Rather than the reproachful look I expected, she just smiled at me a little sadly.

“W-where is she?” I asked in a mousy tone of voice that I hardly recognized as my own.

“Her is room in the back, past the VIP rope,” Sonata replied, gesturing toward a roped off section. “I’ll let security know to ignore you when you head back.”

Then she reached into her blouse and pulled out a ring of keys, selecting one that looked old and brassy before loosening it from the clasp and tossing it to me.

I caught it and regarded it expectantly.

“Backdoor to the right of the main stage,” Sonata said in answer to my unspoken question. “Down the hall then take your first right, then it’s the first door on your right.”

“Thank you,” I said, clutching the key hard. “And… and I’m sorry for the things I said.”

Sonata shook her head. “Tell ‘Dagi, not me… honestly, you weren’t wrong to react like you did.”

“But I hurt her!” I bit out, feeling my chest tighten with shame. “The things I said to her…”

“Yeah well, maybe ‘Dagi should’ve thought of that before attacking your school,” Sonata said, her mouth turning down in a deceptively cute moue. “She’s the one who dug the hole, not you.”

“I still feel awful,” I replied, staring down at the key.

“Can’t help you there,” Sonata chirped. “But thanks for coming to talk to her, okay? If nothing else I appreciate it… I love my sister but she can be a real butt sometimes.”

I chuckled at the childish insult, then nodded, and silently turned to make my way through the growing crowds to the VIP section. True to her word, Sonata must have sent mention ahead because the mountain of a woman I’d encountered at the airport who was standing by the roped off area let me pass without a word, lifting the rope to let me go by and closing it quickly behind me.

The room beyond was only dimly lit, but I could see a stage with a long, silver pole through the center of it. I quickened my pace past it and to the door beyond, finding it locked and fitting the key Sonata had given me to it before letting myself in.

The hallway was cool and dim, much like the room outside and I followed it down, taking a right before stopping at the first door I found.

There was a finely crafted wooden placard with the title: ‘General Manager’ carved into it in gold lettering, and beneath that an identically-made plate that read: ‘Adagio Dazzle’.

I raised a hand to knock, but as I did I heard something that stopped me in my tracks.

A harsh, broken-hearted sob echoed out from the room and into the hall.

My hand went to my mouth in shock. Aria had told me what to expect, but the sound of it was a matter altogether different.

“Octavia Melody you utter, utter fool, what have you done?” I hissed harshly under my breath.

I flinched again as I heard another sob. No woman so beautiful ought to be made to make such a sound.

Taking a deep breath, I raised my hand and knocked solidly on the door.

“Go away, Sonata!” Adagio shouted, her voice ragged and raw. “I told you I’m not leaving my room tonight!”

I opened my mouth to tell her it was not Sonata, but Octavia, but my words died on my tongue.

What would she say? Would she let me in? Would my presence just make things worse?

Tentatively, I knocked again.

“Nodens oath!” Adagio spat from the other side of the door, her voice tremulous. “Go suck a tide pool, ‘Nata I’m not in the mood!”

“I-it’s not Sonata,” I said weakly, forcing the words out around my panic. “It’s… it’s Octavia… I wanted to-”

The door slammed open and I nearly leapt out of my skin in fright as Adagio stared in disbelief at me.

There are women, in my experience, who can cry with some level of grace. I, however, am not among them. When I cry it is a blotchy, snotty affair that generally involves a good deal of yelling and thrown objects.

I should also state for the record that I usually only cry when I’m angry which is infuriating in its own right.

But I digress. Some women cry with grace, and others without, but Adagio was the first woman I had ever met who cried beautifully.

Tears sparkled like gems on her cheeks, her eyes fairly glittered with unspent sorrow, and her, ah… chest heaved invitingly with every drawn breath.

She wept in a manner that made me want to kiss the tears from her cheeks and it actually made me a little bit mad.

Being that pretty was damnably unfair.

She sniffled, which was an infuriatingly fetching sound, and stared at me for a moment before speaking.

“M-Miss Melody,” Adagio said in a quiet, subdued voice that I thought didn’t suit her at all. “I, uhm… please… come in.”

Adagio stepped away from the door and held it open for me, and I entered her room with a slightly bowed head and muttered: ‘thank you’.

The room belonging to the eldest Siren sister was an object lesson in modern decadence.

The plush carpet was a subdued shade of red and the way it gave just slightly beneath my shoes informed me in no uncertain terms how comfortable it would feel to walk on barefoot. There were more than a dozen lights in the room, all low wattage and softly opaque, making the room incredibly easy on the eyes. The walls were a comfortable shade of amber, and all of the furniture was of fine craftsmanship out of some heavy wood like mahogany or teak.

At the far end of the room there was a large four-poster bed with its curtains half-drawn and its soft red comforter mussed. I assumed from the state of it that Adagio had been in bed when I’d arrived and I tried not to give that too much more thought.

A quiet hiccup from behind me took me by surprise and I whirled around. I had, somehow, nearly forgotten that Adagio was there as I took in the room.

She pulled a handkerchief from… somewhere I couldn’t readily identify since she was still wearing her dress and it had no pockets that I could see. Adagio dabbed gracefully at her cheeks, sniffling a bit as she did.

I resisted the urge to put a hand on her cheek and brush the tears away myself.

“May I ask why you’ve come back?” Adagio spoke a little stiffly, as if she were braced for something. “I’m not sure what else I can say to-”

“I’m sorry!” I blurted the words out, and Adagio jerked back in surprise.

“I… What?” Adagio stammered.

“I said: I’m sorry,” I repeated a little more calmly. “For how I acted before, at the bar.”

Adagio looked taken aback for a moment before she rallied and stood a little straighter.

“Why?” She asked sharply.

I blinked in confusion.

“Because…” I stammered, “because it was… it was unladylike and terribly rude of me as well, and because you didn’t deserve it, and… and…”

“And what?” Adagio pressed.

Swallowing back my fear and panic, I took a step closer to her, and suddenly I realized that I could smell her. The scent of rose petals, sea salt, and something I could only readily define as sunshine filled my nose, and my heart did an odd sort of skip in my chest.

“A-and,” I continued, “because you taught me better than that.”

I’m not certain what she was expecting me to say but I doubt it was that, because she stood poleaxed and staring at me for several moments afterward.

“You believe me?” Adagio asked, her voice a ghostly whisper.

I gave her a weak smile, then nodded.

“Why?” Adagio’s voice was still faint.

“Your sister came to see me at my apartment,” I replied quietly. “Aria… we had a conversation and she convinced me to come back here.”

“Aria… you romantic old whore,” Adagio said with a faint smile and a shake of her head, her words had vitriol but her voice was almost… grateful? “I’m curious about what she told you.”

“Very little, actually,” I admitted. “Other than that…”

I trailed off. It was one thing to hear a person say it but quite another to say it oneself. Could I really say to Adagio’s face that better than half the reason I’d come, and been convinced at all, was Aria’s admission that Adagio loved me?

Should I?

It seemed awfully improper on a number of accounts as well as both impetuous and not a little bit rude.

And yet, it was the truth.

“I await with bated breath, Miss Melody,” Adagio said, a touch of her old playfulness coming back to her voice. “What, pray tell, did my sister say?”

“That you loved me,” I took the plunge, and I saw Adagio stiffen.

I was suddenly struck by the mental image of a great, orange-furred cat that had been caught by surprise; its fur fluffing up angrily to make itself seem bigger.

“Did she now?” Adagio whispered.

“She claimed that leaving me behind broke your heart,” I pressed. “And that you… you mourned me.”

She sighed, visibly forcing herself to relax as she wrapped her arms around herself.

“At the time I had no reason to imagine I’d ever see you again,” Adagio replied in a slightly raw voice. “Chances were high that, if things had continued, I might not have crossed your path until several decades had passed and then, of course, you would be a midway through your life and I would still be the same as I ever was.”

“Immortal,” I supplied. “Forever young, always beautiful.”

Adagio smiled at that.

“Not anymore I’m afraid,” she corrected gently. “After the Battle we found our immortality had run its course, as I’m sure you can tell…” she spread her arms and gestured to herself, “I have aged in what I suppose is a standard human manner.”

I hadn’t considered it before but she was right. Adagio was no longer the ever-eighteen girl I’d met when I was nine. She was a beautiful young woman, now, in the prime of her adult life.

And she would age as I would.

“I mourned you in the same way I mourn those very few humans I come to appreciate,” Adagio continued. “Because death would always take them from me, no matter how hard I held on.”

She reached out, tentatively, and her hand came to hover just near my cheek as if she were silently asking permission.

I leaned in, closing the last inch of distance, and shivered at the warm touch of her palm.

“I loved you dearly, Octavia Melody,” Adagio whispered in a faint, thready voice. “As I have loved very few in my exceptionally long life… and I would have given much to see you grow into your talent.”

“I’m here now,” I said, feeling more daring. Daring enough to cover her hand with my own. “Do you still love me?”

“You’re not a child anymore,” Adagio said, breath coming more heavily. “I’m afraid that if I let myself love you again… it would be a very different sort of love than what I had for you as my pupil.”

I dared more and stepped a little closer, my eyes fixing on those warm, raspberry orbs of hers.

“And if that was what I wanted?”

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” Adagio said with a shudder, but she did not move away. “As human as I look, and even lacking my magic, I’m still a predator… I still feed on emotions.”

“And would you ever hurt me?” I asked quietly.

Adagio froze in place, her eyes fixed hungrily on me. I felt pinned, like a hare beneath a hawk's claw, as her gaze bored into me.

“Never,” she hissed.

“Then, Miss Dazzle,” I said, in a faintly business-like tone as I leaned closer. “I… I think, if it’s not too presumptuous, that I would very much like to kiss you.”

I felt as much as heard a growl begin in the back of her throat and, rather than frighten or surprise me, my heart began racing.

Adagio Dazzle was taller than me by a head, statuesque rather than petite, with a commanding mein that suited her disposition. She had wonderfully firm shoulders that I found it a pleasure to fix my arms over as I pulled myself slowly up until our noses were nearly touching.

She didn’t stop me, and by the time I had stopped moving her arms had curled possessively around my waist. I was close enough that I could taste her breath, and we were so achingly near that-

Before I could finish the thought, Adagio pulled me the last few inches and sealed her lips over mine.

I moaned loudly against her mouth, those full, luscious lips were so impossibly soft, and the warm heat of her tongue quickly slipped through, probing for an entrance that I eagerly allowed.

She tasted like smoke and oak, the faintest flavor of the finest vintage whiskey.

The press of her breasts against me confirmed what I already knew: she was significantly more… endowed… than I. It was a slight point of irritation that I had never quite grown into the curves that my mother owned.

I hissed pleasurably as I felt Adagio’s fingers slip past the buttons of my shirt, undoing the bottom few with practiced motions to run over the bare flesh beneath. Her fingers traced my navel up to my bra, then beneath it, and I let out another quiet moan.

How much did I dare? How far did I dare to go with this?

I had waited fifteen years to find the woman who, I distantly realized, I had fallen in love with even as a child. I refused to wait for a second more.

My hands found the back clasp of her dress, and I felt her gasp in surprise against my lips as I pulled it free, letting the gown drop from around her body.

She pulled away slowly, and for a moment I was terrified that I’d gone too far, but the heat in her eyes told a far different story.

Still holding me close, Adagio trailed small kisses along my cheek to my ear, and I shivered a little at the warmth and closeness of her.

“Do you think I’m beautiful, my Melody?” Adagio asked playfully.

“Beautiful,” I said, “is rather a poor descriptor.”

Her laugh was throaty, a strong, heady contralto that sent shivers down my spine.

Then she stepped back from me, her eyes never leaving mine as her arms went around her back. I heard her bra fall to the floor, then her hands went lower, I felt her hips shimmy delightfully, and another soft rasp of fabric told me the last article of clothing she had been wearing had joined the rest of her outfit in the floor.

Adagio pulled free of my arms, taking another step back, and I felt my heart lurch and my breath catch in my throat as she pulled the band from her hair to let it fall freely, then spread her arms again, this time to give me a full view of her gloriously naked body.

Words failed me.

‘Beautiful’ was so trite and overdone, ‘gorgeous’ was so painfully vague.

My eyes roved hungrily over Adagio’s body, and I felt something primal stirring in my chest and other, lower places. She was full and voluptuous, with enough muscle that I could trace her abs with my eyes. Her shoulders, arms, and legs had a definition that left my imagination running wild with thoughts of having that body underneath me and tasting every curve of her.

Adagio was something from the elder days of the world when beauty was divine. She was a marble statue, fair Galatea, come to life.

She was heavenly… radiant… a goddess.

My goddess.

“Am I still perfect?” Adagio asked, her voice husky with lust. “Am I still your ideal?”

“Always,” my voice came out in a harsh, heated whisper as I closed the gap between us. “Forever and always.”

Adagio tangled her fingers into my long black hair, hooking her hand around the back of my head, and I felt her grip as she pulled me back up to her.

I drank in the flavor of her lips as I felt her undress me. I didn’t care, my head was spinning and my body burning, and it was all I could do to hang on to her as she stripped me of my boots, belt, and slacks. I kicked them free of my legs as I moaned and whined with every touch she graced me with.

Her fingers quickly undid the remaining buttons of my shirt, pulled the bow tie loose, and then I was putty in her hands as she caressed and kneaded at my skin, her touches as gentle as they were insistent.

“I am taking you to my bed, Miss Melody,” Adagio hissed between kisses, “and you are not leaving it until I am satisfied.”

I moaned a swift affirmative as I pressed harder against her. Both of her hands hooked under my buttocks and gripped, lifting me easily against her. A few quick strides took us to her four-poster bed and she laid me down gently on the cool sheets as she crawled over me.

With gentle care, Adagio pulled the last things preserving my modesty away, and I shivered, reflexively curling inward to cover myself.

“Don’t,” Adagio commanded.

And it was a command. Her voice rang with authority, and my limbs loosened practically of their own accord. I let my arms fall away from my modest breasts, and my legs relaxed, revealing the rest of me to her gaze. I blushed heavily as she drank me in and I think in that moment, and maybe for the first time, I felt truly beautiful.

“Give me your hands, my Melody,” Adagio said quietly, but that steel will was still threaded through her words.

I obeyed, holding them out to her, and she took my wrists in her fingers, pressed them together, then swept my bow tie around them and tied it off tightly into a neat bow.

Before I could question it, Adagio had pressed my bound hands and arms up and over my head.

Unless I wanted to rip my prized bow tie I was completely at her mercy.

And I found myself entirely alright with that.

Adagio reached out and let her hand caress lovingly over my cheek, her thumb trailing over my lips before pressing softly. I opened my mouth just slightly, letting the digit slip inside, and I suckled gently on it, earning a warm smile.

It was like watching the sun come out.

As she pulled her hand back I gasped softly.

“I… Adagio…” my words came out almost slurred. “It’s… it’s my f-first time, s-so…”

Adagio’s eyes widened a little, then her features softened to something almost angelic.

“You say that as if it would ever be anything less than gentle with you, my beloved Melody,” Adagio said softly.

Her fingers trailed down from my lips, across my breasts, then further until they were past my waist, and I gasped as I felt her trail a single finger along my slit.

“So wet already,” Adagio teased, then she prowled forward, leaving her finger where it lay, and pressed her lips to my neck, kissing me softly.

I writhed against her touch, trying to buck my hips against the soft pressure of her finger.

“Relax, my love…” she whispered softly, and I shivered as her breath tickled my neck, “just relax.”

I slowed my breathing and stared up into Adagio’s mesmerizingly bright eyes. I felt my body slacken as I tried to lift my head to reach out to her, suddenly desperate to feel her lips on mine again.

She obliged, and in that same moment her finger slipped into me, and I let out a soft cry of pleasure. One hand held my hips steady as the other worked a finger in and out of me in a steady rhythm, and through it all her lips were pressed to mine.

I was coming apart at the seams, and for a few moments it felt like the only thing holding me in place were those perfect lips.

A second finger joined the first and I gasped as I writhed. Adagio had knelt, parting my legs with hers, and I locked my legs around her waist, my body instinctively trying to bring me closer to my lover.

Then her fingers plunged deeper and I arched my back as I felt a shock of lightning pass through me, and I came over her hand and her fingers. I wriggled and shook, my arms flailing in their restriction.

I so badly wanted to wrap myself around Adagio, to feel every inch of my body pressed against hers. It was like a physical pain or ache, like hunger or exhaustion, it seared in the back of my throat like thirst.

“Again,” Adagio hissed as she leaned in and pressed herself to me, working her fingers in and out of me with increased speed. “Come for me again!”

I did, and my hips bucked as I cried out, stars swam in my vision, and I am quite mortified to admit that at that point…

I passed out.