Every movement was intentional, and was made with well-oiled elegance. It was meant to be seen, to be judged, to draw emotions from deep within whoever was watching.

Much as it annoyed her, these sessions would probably have been a lot more interesting if there were studio seating attached to the bedroom. If points were on the line, God only knew how much effort could have actually been dragged out of him. Maybe he could have earned the balls he'd been inexplicably granted in utero.

He'd probably try to pin a ribbon to them.

Ruby performed what romance novels so sweetly liked to dub 'love making'. His touches were feather-light, his kisses grazed her skin, each thrust was gentle as if she were made of glass.

She didn't want this sort of ridiculous courtesy. It was nice if she'd taken a hard fall from a tree or something, but every single time it was the same thing.

She'd tried clawing at his back, more than once, thinking maybe pain would snap him out of this routine. Her nails had done nothing in the wake of such slick skin, though. He'd probably been moisturizing for 10-12 years at that point, and he was only 21. She could imagine Ruby at 9, utterly convinced that if he didn't smear lotion on he'd wake up the next morning with wrinkles and age spots.

This delicacy wouldn't have bothered her so much if, for one second, it felt like that was all he could do. Infinitely less so if it felt like it was what he wanted to do. As much as he liked to fawn and sashay his way through the world, it was done in a constant state of inhibition. If anyone saw him aggressive or assertive, somehow the world would end. Again.

Her hands went through his hair and brushed the disfigurement which had killed what he had been. If Ruby hadn't been focused on this highly-subdued form of lust, the systematic building to what he'd call an orgasm, he probably would have winced.

Maybe she wished he hadn't been so distracted. It might have spurred something out of him which was real instead. That might not even have been to the level she looked for, but damned if it wouldn't have at least had a shot at being closer…

When they finished, he cuddled her. There was no other word for it. It didn't feel so much like he were a man holding the woman he'd just had sex with as a child holding a stuffed animal as he went to sleep.

"You fuck like a girl," she told him.

"Wish I could say the same thing," he replied.

Annoyed for many reasons, she shoved him hard enough to knock him off the bed. When she heard him laugh, Sapphire didn't know why she joined him.