[SE] let the worries melt away

Zavien

Fear is pain arising from the anticipation of evil.

His eyes dragged down her form, swells and curves and beauty marks and a million different details he wanted to soak in with more than his eyes, to touch and feel and love. It was a powerful emotion that had him struggling to portray with words, and he didn't know if her lack of response to his sappy sentiments made his embarrassment better or worse, left wondering if she agreed; but Zavien's attention was quickly captured by the sounds he was able to draw from her. Encouraged to continue - and somewhat proud of himself - a small smile curled on his lips as he moved to kiss down her neck, inching closer to her chest with every moment.

This time, when her hands reached for his pants, he let her, no longer conflicted with the when and where. He only paused in his own efforts when the fabric pulled at his growing erection, muscles tensed so that the hold on her hip tightened when he sucked in a strained breath. Only once the clothing was removed did he relax again, kicking aside the clothes to lean over Lena, intent on finding ways to pleasure her rather than satisfy his own increasing ache.

Zavien leaned forward to trail his eyes over her skin, followed by a hand that tracked lightly towards her breasts, his lips not far behind as he kissed each place like it was a new goddess for him to praise. When he reached her perfect breasts, he was gentle yet inquisitive, brushing his thumb experimentally over her peaked nipple as a thought entered his mind. "You might have to tell me if there's something specific you want." Given his own experience level and a glaring inability to read minds, he was currently relying on feedback and intuition, unaware if there was anything more she wanted that he hadn't thought of and wanting desperately to please her in every way. It made his voice gruff and low, eyes hooded with desire as he hovered over her. "Like how I want to hear you say my name again." Then he ran his tongue over where his thumb had been, curious to hear her response.

Lena

// what is to give light must endure burning //

Her mind was a warped haze; all action and response, arousal and need, wanton and fair. Her body was a hum of rapt, fervent, and impassioned persuasion, each sound a decibel to encourage his ministrations. She maneuvered in quick undulations beneath him, wanting his mouth on her neck, then lower, but becoming distracted by the finality of his pants coming undone before her. “Finally,” she whispered with a serene and coy smile, an eager hand dipping lower along his stomach, just to see the reaction, threatening but not touching over the ample erection; figuring too early of a response might be his undoing – and there was no need for a prerequisite. She still looked though, rapt appreciation to follow as she bit down on her lips, straining and refraining.

Though she would’ve kept going on some level, whether it was her nails lightly raking down his back, trying to gauge his platitudes and his needs, angling herself to gain another touch, his words came to utter around her, a light gasp following his motions as lips descended over her breasts. “Zav,” she came to whisper first, intending for it to echo in his ear as a thumb brushed along her nipple, forcing and forging the name from her mouth, coaxed and persuaded within an instant; and likely many more times to come. Even more so when his tongue followed, her spine arcing to meet the motions, senses on overload, a mewl, a moan, spindling out from her. “Your touch,” and thereafter she grasped one of his hands, trying to lead it down to her core, where she could be plucked and strung and come undone with the mere brush of fingers along her thighs or at her center. “I want it here.” Hoping he'd take the beneficial hint, she tilted her head, studying him, eyes hooded and dark. "What else?" Did he need and crave?

Zavien

Fear is pain arising from the anticipation of evil.

The pants finally fell, leaving nothing between them but heat and wandering hands. His abdomen flexed beneath her touch, feeling how she hovered, playful and threatening. He groaned through the clench of his jaw, straining against selfish instinct and desire to press into her, knowing he wouldn't have the self-control to last and unwilling to meet his own need before her. Part in warning and part in desperation, her name tumbled from his lips, gruff and drawn, "Lena."

Doing his best to focus on his current goals and attentions, Zavien kept his head lowered against her skin. It made it all the easier to hear her whisper his name, the sounds that followed sending him higher than any drug might have. He drank them in, tucking each away in his memory despite knowing they would never sound as good as the real thing. It's why he did it again - spurred by clutching nails and arching backs - plucking playfully at her nipple before replacing it with his mouth once more. 

But then he was being redirected with such certainty that he couldn't deny her, his hand moved diligently down, continuing the path once she'd stopped. It skimmed over her thighs for a moment, caressing and teasing in its slow progression towards her center - out, in, up. He paused when he'd reached the goal, hovering gently as he looked up to meet her gaze with something molten and somewhat greedy. "I want to feel you fall apart, knowing it's because of me." From the byproducts of his love and affection for her, and the millions of ways he wanted her to feel cherished. 

His fingers reached tentatively forward, exploring yet tender in their approach. There was obvious thought and consideration in how he slipped one finger in, hooking it softly as he gauged her reaction, searching for that sweet spot where he might satisfy the need lacing her eyes, where he might hear her call his name again. Stroking an cautious rhythm, his amateur attempts might have been lacking in experience but he attempted to make up for it with motivation and effort.

Lena

// what is to give light must endure burning //

The anticipation was a breathless denizen and design, her body eagerly stretching for his movements with effortless ease. It was wondrous to relish and snag; a sumptuous rapture somewhere in the haze of the impending reverie – the tease of his mouth on her breasts, the slide of his hands downwards, drawn along soft, smooth thighs and suddenly wishing she could simply clench them tight and hold him there. Drawn upwards like a bow instead, her back arced while her head fell back into the pillow, spine tight with restless abandon, hands very tempted to either claw into the mattress and hang onto blankets, or tease and toy with him.

So her fingers slid along his own fine muscle and sinew, striving to taunt and finesse while he worked on her – she emitted an encouraging moan the moment he found the right spot, trying to angle her body so that his fingers would coil amongst it again. “Right there,” she uttered in a feral whisper, gratifying, pleasing, affirmative. “Again,” came on a sigh, a hint, a plea, sensual appreciation as she groaned out his name on a flushed and aching breath, her legs tempted to snag around his hips and simply put them both in a heartening and auspicious amount of pleasure; but she knew him far better than that.

Zavien

Fear is pain arising from the anticipation of evil.

He was in no position to deny Lena anything, hypnotized by her body and the desire coursing through it. The slow and cautious woman was gasping and grasping for him the likes of which he'd never seen. From the flushed throw of her head into her halo of dark hair on the pillow to the greedy path of her fingers and feet tempting to pull him closer, Zavien clenched his jaw through the overwhelming flood of heat coursing through his veins. He wasn't used to it, wasn't used to the blaze of lust and want blurring his thoughts or the feel of her wrapped around his finger. It was intoxicating - she was intoxicating and he couldn't get enough. 

When he found the spot that had her arching off the bed, he didn't hesitate to brush against it again. Slow and curious, he strummed his finger in the same place, giving just enough pressure to find that reaction before he was doing it all a second time then a third and a fourth and so on, searching for a rhythm that would narrow the gaps between moments of pleasure into something blissful and continuous. And while he strived to match her body's craving with his finger, he searched with his mouth for her nipple, experimenting with what kind of reaction she might give under both efforts and wondering how he got so lucky.

Lena

// what is to give light must endure burning //

Zavien was a quick and efficient learner; dutiful and to the point, because as soon as she’d mentioned, crooned, and measured the right segments, he was off, stroking and finessing, finding those portions that added immense pleasure and pressure to the back of her spine. She could feel it slowly building in her abdomen, coiling, contorting, curling in on herself, her mind a beautiful haze of satisfaction and gratification – rarely expressed in the Caretaker’s threshold, so used to bending her will for others. But gods, he was doing wonders to her now, and she relished each movement and motion with an arc and undulation to her hips or a mewling portion of his name on her lips; adding even more once his mouth descended upon her breasts again and again. She arched into the touches, the finesses, the caresses with expressive moans, aching for the pinpoint of that release –

And when it came, blissful and sweeping, she was neither silent nor cautious. The heady unwinding claimed and clamored in a keening moan, Zavien repeated once more, echoing as her lips purposefully moved to the shell of his ears or the depths of his neck, sweat and sheen clinging to her skin. “That was so good,” she promised and confessed, in case he remained wholly uncertain of how much she’d enjoyed unraveling at his hands. Her legs slipped around his hips, clearly intending for him to join her in the sensual segments, mind barely confounding steps from here – save for things she’d been saving for right moments. “I have sheaths in the drawer,” an indication she’d been prepared, for some point in their romantic inclinations (and other missed opportunities); wanting to grant him the same fulfilling measures.

Zavien

Fear is pain arising from the anticipation of evil.

He couldn't take his eyes off her, couldn't fathom that he was living this moment, watching Lena fall apart like flower petals giving way under his touch, revealing something raw and precious beneath. Zavien felt every flex of her muscles from the bend of her back to the press of her hips and then to the tightening around his finger as her climax breached, every sound and uttering of his name like music to his ears. Slowing his ministrations to carry her down, his free hand skimmed her body in all its glowing glory, kissing up her chest toward her lips as he smiled, blissful and proud from the multiple forms of reassurance. "Gods, you're perfect."

Before his own thoughts or desires could possess him, Zavien claimed her lips in a kiss that was as greedy as it was giving in its seering passion, a branding of his love untainted by lust or recent death. It was a promise and a hope that he rooted deep between them, having already felt it coiled tight in his chest.

When he pulled away for breath, the brief moment of control and restraint was slipping beyond him, her legs inching him closer like an inevitable embrace he couldn't resist. Faintly recalling a previous conversation, he gave an acknowledging nod of his head that felt foggy with desire, drifting as he shifted towards the nightstand. The stores didn't surprise him, not when Lena was always focused on precautions and preparations, but it still brought a flutter of adoring familiarity to his expression as removed the package from the drawer. It wasn't a suave or sexy process, his movements pushing through an all-time high of anticipation like he was rushing through thick oil, but his heart was racing, blood pounding as he tenderly placed the protection.

After a few deep breaths and a blink to focus through the ache that only seemed to grow, Zavien settled gently between her legs. One hand propped by her head, the other splayed across the soft flesh of her hip and thigh as he hovered over her, savoring and cherishing what was to come. There were so many words he wanted to say, but his mind was short-circuiting, letters and syllables suddenly lost when he brushed against her, his grip nearly bruising with the intensity. Looking deeply into the dark brown of her eyes, he waited only long enough for that quiet confirmation to flash between them before he eased carefully forward.

Lena

// what is to give light must endure burning //

She returned his fervor with her own adoration and soft glow of sated fervency; that rush of potentially more, the glory of both sharing in it together, the heady state of her heart pounding a rhythm in her mind, in her chest. She could’ve argued his point if she weren’t devoured by his mouth, snagging at him, hands enclosed around his neck, hardly perfect or ideal, faultless or flawless and never seeking pedestals and paragons, but she’d chase down the parallels as best she could. For him or for herself or for whomever – brain already half past the point of circulating into thoughts beyond pleasure and the ardent haze pulsing and unwinding.

When he was ready though, gods she was too, legs trapping his hips until they came towards hers. If he was hesitant at all, she certainly wasn’t, as eager and hungry as ever, seeking him out like a light, like a flame, willing and wanton and wanting to take him in. She appreciated the gentle ease, the way he slowly entered, enough for her senses to writhe and angle, body finding comfort and pleasure as she sank back into the bed, gave a tilting, lilting arch to her thighs and her own hips, a brief mewl from her mouth as she already wanted more. “I’m okay,” she offered in a covetous and light whisper, ensuring he’d be content in moving once her reassurance had been granted – maneuvering slightly underneath him in apt, rapt encouragement.

Zavien

Fear is pain arising from the anticipation of evil.

Despite her flaws and imperfections, when his lips were on hers and the world beyond the bed vanished, Lena was perfect for all intents and purposes, everything he wanted and needed and desired wrapped around him in clutching limbs, pulling him closer in an irresistible gravity that he no longer tried to fight. Even if she didn't believe him, Zavien would never stop telling her that he wouldn't change a thing about her. 

Pressing gently forward, he sucked in a breath, struggling to assess how Lena was doing when all he wanted was to shove deeper, to find that release. An apology was already on his tongue, prepared to refocus and adjust however she needed; but Lena moved before the words formed, the friction sending electricity up his spine, forever grateful for her reassurance as he lost the ability for coherent thought. He might have cursed. He might have said her name. It was hard to tell through the groan that rumbled from his chest, pushing unbidden from his lungs by the pressure constricting his consciousness only to the places held together by Lena. Only once he was sure he wouldn't cut the pleasure short with his lack of control did Zavien speak, blinking through the haze to look at her. "Let me know if that changes." 

He didn't leave her waiting though, shifting his weight as his hips began to move, searching cautiously for that natural angle that would send them both into oblivion. Using Lena's cues as much as the fire sparking through his nerve endings, Zavien knew when he'd found it. Curving his head down to the crook of her neck, he placed desperate kisses along her skin, as much to steady himself as pull her along the path of sensual sensations. His muscles tensed in preparation as he slowly increased the pace, not letting his own arcing desire or drawn notes of pleasure keep him from whatever her body was communicating, jaw clenching against the rougher instincts that threatened to bruise, determined to cherish and love before chasing the carnal nature or the pressure already begging for release.

Lena

// what is to give light must endure burning //

It was all inherent bliss now; the pleasure binding through her spine and sliding its way through her navel, driving its soaring pinnacles into each and every movement. She could hear him, somewhere in the midst of it all, and she closed her eyes for a moment, tending to the satisfactions by rolling her hips, snagging and pulling at the rhythm, trying to find the wave of undulations so both of them were sharpened, hone, keen, roused, sent into points and raptures of oblivion.

There was an absentminded nod in there, working her way to being consumed left little more for words, other than the fluctuation of his name across her lips, in various forms of moans or mewls, arcing her back to follow after his movements. Once he buried himself further, once his head was in the crook of her neck, breath wafting against her skin, she was wholly absorbed in their process, her hands winding somewhere along the crest of his armed muscles, finding leverage, finding places to grind and snag and hang on. She might’ve whispered something, but gods knew if it even made it past her mouth, striving to sink and revel in all the sensations.

Wanting more and more, the feeling of covetous desires and lengthy longings stirred, and her fingers ghosted downward, trying to find wherever one of his hands had gone. “Here,” she whispered and preened and crooned, striving to guide him down to where they were connected, but yearning and craving even more touch and strokes and caresses on the nerve endings. “Touch me here too.”

Zavien

Fear is pain arising from the anticipation of evil.

Locker rooms and secret archive conversations had done little to prepare him for the euphoria that would make thought nearly impossible. He'd later wonder if that would fade with experience, but in the moment, he couldn't even think that much. Despite all his hopes and plans for gentle touches and quiet infusions of love, he was being swept up in the tide of her. His hips moved to meet her every thrust, chasing a golden glow beginning to pulse in his core, desperately hoping Lena would stop him if he began to lose his head.

Through the blissful rush of it all, he was almost relieved when she spoke again, confirmation that she would correct or guide him to ensure her own pleasure. The fumbling hand found his still planted against her hip, resisting the urge to tighten its possessive hold on her. He didn't pause or question, reluctantly loosening each finger to follow her guide lower, to the small gap between their bodies. His head nodded in the tiniest bit of understanding, unable to say anything through the way she was stealing his breath, stealing his thoughts with every move of her hips, every undulation of her body. It was too much to leave room for anything beyond the swell of affection rising alongside the growing pressure of bright release, but he managed to carve out enough space to search admirably for the bundle of nerves he'd only seen in a picture.

Groping blindly, the efforts momentarily disrupted his rhythm, his movements stuttering while he persisted nonetheless, determined to assist her however he could. His fingers slipped down to find her waiting, the feeling of their joining at his fingertips sending heat flushing to the top of his head before falling to settle like a star in his abdomen. He moaned, having to breath through the sensation until he managed to stumble upon the spot, the clit rolling between his fingers to discover what new reactions Lena might give him.

Lena

// what is to give light must endure burning //

Lena didn’t consider any of the affections or affirmations swept away; if anything at all, they were amplified, pressed in between undulations and movements, curled and contorted in the rapid beats of hearts and lungs, in the swell of motions, in the way they kept chasing down portions together. Her mouth sought his, wet and maneuvering across sweat-streaked cheeks or lips or necks, the thread of her moans echoing across skin, pressing her salt-laden head somewhere against his sternum or in the crook of his nape. Her eyes fell closed, concentration and focus amiss between the ardent furor and fervor, enthusiasm rankling in the depths of each groan or light bout of laughter to caress and stroke his flesh.

She kept her legs locked around his hips, following the rhythm of his thrusts as best she could, pleasantly surprised as the pace amplified, as his finger found her clit and the eruption of senses implored and cajoled, making her want nothing more. “Zav,” she uttered as promised, nothing more than him and him and him in her mind. When he pulsed against it again she trembled beneath his wake, the reward for the sentiments a long, high-pitched moan of encouragement. “Yes,” she hissed, lip caught between her teeth, drawn out while her other hand wandered, somewhere down his own thigh, fingers reaching to touch and bring ever closer to fruition and completion. “Are you-,” she might’ve said close, but the word didn’t make it through her summations, another chord of mewling and panting threading its way through her vocals; a gasp across his muscles.

Zavien

Fear is pain arising from the anticipation of evil.

Her mouth trailed liquid fire across his skin. The feeling of her whispers and moans might as well have been tattoos for how they branded his heart, staking and claiming her hold on him with barely a whisp of breath. It was all the more intoxicating when his fingers brushed her clit, like a cord plucked to elicit the most beautiful of sounds, the tremble and ripple of her body nearly destroying him in an instant.

Lena didn't have to finish the question when their minds were occupied by nothing other than the growing force of their combined pleasure. The incoherent moan of response turned into a resounding "Yes" that dragged willfully from his chest, unsure how to articulate how easily she was ruining him, how close he was to that blinding edge. He just gripped her tighter, thrusts and fingers turning desperate to pull her along as he felt the pressure hitting its peak.

Despite all his hopes and efforts to put Lena first, Zavien couldn't stop the climax when it came, couldn't tell if she'd followed or not as he lost grasp of the moment. "Gods, Lena." It was a prayer and a plea, a conscious declaration and pure instinct as his world erupted in nothing but her and the burning white behind his eyes. His hips pumped of their own accord, the rest of his body rigid with the all-encompassing release that cascaded through him, burning away thought and control. He subconsciously cradled her in his grasp as he slowed, drifting down from the high and savoring every moment of it, the way everything else fell away and all he knew was the feel of her. His mouth searched for hers, wanting to give her everything from his strength to his breath to his love-filled heart.

Lena

// what is to give light must endure burning //

She opened her eyes as his answer came, mostly just to behold him come undone and unraveled. She’d seen him in the heat of battle and the rush of movements and motions, or with wholesome smiles that had won her over time and time again, but never like this; thoroughly consumed by the rise of pleasure. It almost made her preen.

Instead though, his rigidity, his pulses, his satisfaction brought hers ever closer, pushing her to the edge and the brink so the blinding abyss of fulfillment bolstered in her gut, in her center, in her soul. She followed him on an unwound, keen moan, the lining etched in a salacious hiss, humming and strumming through her body as she fell back into the mattress, breathless, sides and ribs heaving with the effort and sentiments. Stretched out and feeling like a languid, molten thing, her hands went to his wet, slickened hair, pushing it back as he descended, granting lightness and fortitude in the midst of their shared orchestration. "Worth the wait?" she laughed, before his mouth consumed hers.