She's not supposed to be here with white satiny sheets pooling around her lithe ivory body. No, she's supposed to be slumbering peacefully curled up in her cabin on the Strahl.
Penelo is defiant though and he learned it through her innocent cries of prolonged ecstasy that curled around his inflamed skin, all sleek with beaded sweat.
He learned it through her tears that blurred her vision and he learned the cinnamon tastes of her tongue. Her mouth was tinged with red and her fingernails raked at his flesh desperately. She was not wanton. She was a waif. Penelo was all innocence and defiance not free and calmed like Balthier.
Yet the two matched and their bodies would mingle with one another. And they'd dance in entangled sheets with the smell of sex and sweat perfuming the room.
And oh how she'd scream his name, her tongue would roll off in such a lovely way that it drove him almost mad with desire and animalistic lust. He'd peel off her clothing as if it were a second skin, his hands teasing upon her tanned flesh. She'd beg him with her eyes–to release her and he would.
But Balthier knew it was wrong to release the girlish desires of his companion like this, he knew that Fran would surely chastise him for loving the girl in such a way. But he aroused her and he instilled this hunger in her that could only be satiated through lubricated genitalia and lovemaking.
And yes, you could ask him how it was.
Oh you know what he'd tell you?
He'd say that Penelo was good with him, behaved, and not at all foolish. Her hands would grip unto his shoulders, her nails making little bruises on his untainted skin. She would cry out and he would indeed go deep inside her.
Making her arch her back, her skin all heated, and her brows drawn together, as she relished the moment. He'd toy with her, fulfilling her seemingly immature childish wishes until she'd be wasted. She'd pant and wipe her brow and settle unto his lean chest, her blonde hair spilling over his skin.
And he too would spill his white fluid all over her abdomen. Then they'd lick it clean. She was all sloppy, and he was all too refined with it. Yet nonetheless they'd do it until their skin glistened from the oncoming rays of sunlight that warmed them well.
And he'd turn to her, nipping her lobe, and he'd say:
"Well, I have to say that was very good, darling."
Penelo would smirk in a cocky sort of manner.
"I'd have to agree, Balthier." she'd quip.