fight for the things that crack light into your life

MELITA

The way he bucked up against her, like a chase into things they already had, wound through her senses and semblances as a coiled, contorted promise. A demand low in her belly threatened to scorch and maim and have without regrets, and she didn’t bother hiding it, insistent as her teeth pinched over his skin, lips raised across his neck in feverish kisses, marking, imploring.

The murmur, the notions of a list, made her laugh though; a light giggle that couldn’t quite conquer the hooded haze of lust and love, her mind conjuring a thousand things all in one prospering dominion. “What would be at the top?” she snagged out of her mercurial whimsy, a joke laden on the prospects of their wanton indulgence, aiming to hear what he’d want before –

Then he teased and toyed and all she could exhibit first was a loud gasp and a high keen, a whine, as he rolled his grasp along her thigh. Much too light and not nearly enough and purposefully orchestrating his own path, her features turned into a mulish pinch of nose and mouth as she uttered, growled, something along the lines of “Shithead.” Hardly her best, but her skin and body and mind were so taut with arousal that it scarcely mattered; hips striving to turn towards the insistent plunge and movement of his fingers. Then she was a shuddering, moaning mess, little harsh intakes of breath urgent for more, as her head settled somewhere in between his neck and shoulder.

Just before enacting her own revenge.

Two could play at that game, she supposed in her already rattled, addled thoughts. One hand reached down for his cock, fully intending to run her fingers lightly over its smooth, silken flesh, just a touch, just a trace, to gain reactions and upheavals.

This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight

Iskra

A devious shape finds his features, flaring out in immediate response to the stifled insult. That's almost worth more than the small, breathy sounds that desire tilts into her lips, taking all her usual heat and turning it inwards to a feral burn. A chuckle of triumph escapes, and his next curl of finger comes with more depth and insistence, as if this too is just a competition for them.

Her question from earlier blazes through him, and he affords it an answer now, cruelly giving her something to consider as pleasure climbs her. "I'd love to watch you cum all your own one time," he murmurs it just against her neck as his thumb strokes down her clit, inspiring another shudder in his lap.

It's all fun and games until it's turned around on him, the first pass of her hand against him sending a jolt through his entire body, stilling his hands for a moment. "Mellll," he tests with the low drag of voice, intending to punish her further with more obedient slide of his hand against her, coaxing out every roll her can from her hips.

I can see the sunshine for the first time in a while
It's like I've been baptized by the warmth of your smile

MELITA

The shape of sedition came in many forms, and today it was coming in wanton decrees and degrees; as he moved his fingers her toes curled and her head fell forward, resting on his shoulder muscles as her legs clenched around him, desperately seeking more. The pleasure mounted and skirted and scaled; breathless crescendos rising out of her, body taut like a bow string, waiting for him to pluck at just the right angle and pace.

His response was not what she expected, and she managed a cackle in between a few salacious moans. “Oh, you want me to do all the work?” sputtered out of her eventually, on sharp inhales scattering through her teeth, but by then her lips pressed along one of his many tattoos and she was desperately clinging to any morsel of thought. When he didn’t ask hers, she imagined instead; probably something with his mouth –

Her vengeance, while hastily constructed, inspired the low granules of his voice and gods it was nice to hear her name uttered like that. It was just the right measure, in and amongst another slide of his hand, to inspire the tide of her release. It came sharp and unashamed, with her gasping and moaning into his ear, thighs clenched around his hips and trying to scurry, climb, higher, gain more of the pleasure, of the satisfaction, share it in their thresholds. The hand holding his cock dragged it closer to her core, toying, teasing, taunting, but certainly granting permission, wanting and wanting still.

This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight

Iskra

The shape of her return catches him off guard enough that a laugh dares escape between the rough grin and the mewls of agreement circling between them. "That's one way of looking at it," he huffs, the breath shortening abruptly as her teeth pull it back through his skin. "What can I say," he hums, the sound barely rising above the vibration in his throat as he tenses beneath her attention. "I love to watch you, especially when you're working." Conquering creatures or clits, she is a thing of admiration when she's in motion.

The grip that rolls down his hand from within drags his groan out even further where her tease trembles through his cock. The pleasure rolls down, quivering along the cinch of her thighs and his wet hand holds the pressure where she needs it before relenting entirely and slipping free to smear a better anchor against her hips as she slides up and against him. She's as merciless with the burn she sets into him as she is any of her other endeavors, but he's never found himself inclined to want anything less but the full force of her.

"This can be added back onto the list," comes the roughened note to make a repeat of this wild clambering, fingers tightening against the curve of her as she adjusts upon him. Leaning into her shoulder with a mouth that meant to bite but can only tremble around a hot breath, he buries himself fully into her, relieved to finally have somewhere to put the arousal she coaxed out early.

I can see the sunshine for the first time in a while
It's like I've been baptized by the warmth of your smile

MELITA

Iskra must’ve learned compliments got him everywhere; her eyes narrowed and peered at him through wicked and provoking gold, but any subversive spells and rebuttals died on his laugh and flattery. She did work wonders – but mostly she counted in her propensity towards violence. “Hmph,” was all she managed to garner through her chest, the rebuttals lost in waves of pleasures, making a mental note that probably wouldn’t last several more seconds.

She was a half-shuddering mess anyway, trembling in the wake of satisfaction and impending greed, hungry for more all over again in the depths of his grasp. But he was an anchor and a port, securing her along thresholds of hips and thighs, not one she’d ever have to worry about letting her fall. Her hands were grasping everywhere now, seeking and finding purchase along muscles and behind his neck, like lifelines and harbors, finding her root and safety in his very existence.

Once there, settling down over him, his cock buried in her, her senses were overrun again. She laughed into his skin, where she bowed near his neck and swore, moaned, whined, keened, managing to mumble “Noted,” before his name was a whisper, a murmur, a hiss in his ear, and her teeth were upon him. Between the cool air passing over her shoulders and the water contorting around them, the sensations combined into a heady, beating glow; and she strived to set some pace, undulating and rolling her hips, seeking purchase and height, grasp unrelenting.

This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight

Iskra

Whatever relief meets him is a falsehood, or so short lived that it immediately breaks apart back into a climbing need. The initial slip inside of her is no longer enough, not when all the shuddering heat of her body encourages him to greed, fed without sating with every press and roll of her hips against him.

The strike of her teeth against his skin offers a different sort of pressure, the hard surface of them sliding along the taut edge of his awareness with a all the force of a bonfire climbing through the dark. His tension doubles under it, wood popping to the flame, and he growls through the breath that he turns up to her as her roughly claims her mouth for himself instead. Lacking the tenderness of earlier, he grabs hold of her with every means he has while his hands are fisted at her hips and his cock is aching inside her. There's no space for words, but there's no lack of communication now as his hips strike up repeatedly against her, driving a more urgent pace as he strives to yank his desire out by finding the core of hers.

I can see the sunshine for the first time in a while
It's like I've been baptized by the warmth of your smile

MELITA

Avarice was as much a part of them as everything else; she preened from it as sensations roared through her, the pleasure layered, stoked through her with every movement, every sibilance. His growl made her shudder, yearning to hear it again as she met his strokes and hips with her own, striving to set a pattern, a rhythm, rather than an uncoordinated, clumsy haze of lust and confusion. If they'd aimed to slow things down that was long forgotten.

His mouth on hers fed all the more need stirring low, low, low in her belly; lips meeting his with breathless design, her teeth and tongue flashing, dragging, taking where she could. Any moans, high-pitched and enthusiastic, or murmurs of his name were woven back into him, absorbed by skin and flesh and bone, louder when they echoed against water or stone. His drive urged hers onward, rougher, and her hands sought purchase and height as his movements went deeper. “Yes,” she crooned when she came up for air, encouraging, wanting, craving, toes curling while her thighs tightened around him. At some point she'd become a trembling, ravenous mess, feeling like she was coming apart in all directions, but focused solely on one. “More – just like that,” and she’d strive to do the same, climbing those heights and reaching for the peak.

This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight

Iskra

He has never reached and not found her there, each of them seeming to race to a peak, even now. More than that, it's the match, as much flame as the echo of her through him, similar in enough ways that he rarely doubts understanding even when it devolves to little more than roughened sounds parting on torn breath.

Her encouragement stokes him, the burn rising ever brighter and higher within, heating everywhere they touch until the contact feels molten. "Ohh, Mel," he sighs into her jaw as she trembles above him, the pulse of it aching through his whole length. The bid to stay on course comes when he feels himself nearing the edge, something ravenous within finally scraping at the last bone of its hunger. "Come with me," he murmurs low to her as he slams repeatedly up into her, back bowing with the effort. One hand abandons her hips, sinking a thumb down to press in on her clit as the last remnants of his control give.

The torches nearby double in size as energy snaps through him white and hot and consuming. He bucks up into her then holds, staying buried as he sinks his head into her chest and moans her name while he thoroughly spends himself.

I can see the sunshine for the first time in a while
It's like I've been baptized by the warmth of your smile

MELITA

Already undone once, it didn’t take much longer for her to unravel again. Sensitive and bowed, it was as though he’d snapped a string and sent her reeling the moment his murmurs came across her jaw, the motions of everything rising into her core and contorting there in nothing but a haze. It peaked on the edges of her senses, and she followed him with boundless appeal, hips sliding, clenching, once his thumb pressed alongside. She didn’t even have to agree to the sentiments, her body committed well before anything could tumble and fumble past her lips. Like a roar and a beacon, she granted her outcry into his skin, teeth miring somewhere along his ear when they pulsed around one another, and then the sharp little breaths of air erupted from her lungs, his name much more than a whisper past her mouth.

She’d scarcely noticed the flare of fire around the lanterns, still shuddering in the aftermath, slumping her frame into his like he’d be holding them both up. Hooking and clinging her hands around his shoulders, she felt the rest of the surroundings crash and clamber back – the waves undulating around them, the cool pulse of the air on sweat-slicked brows, the stone nearby, the torches and their hues reflecting on flesh. And still, there was only him that she traced and touched and entangled within, letting them each have a moment in passing, lungs filled, sides heaving. “Hey,” she said after she had a few seconds of tucking herself into his brawn and brimming with contentment, satisfaction, a preen of her smile aglow in firelight. “You good?”

This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight

Iskra

The shudder of her collapsing around him, and later against him, settles into him with a deep seated satisfaction, one that rivals the return of breath held too long. He is his own shivering bundle of spent desire, all the places that'd just been straining suddenly going slack and gelatinous. Only his grip on her remains steadfast, held without conscious thought, the edges of something too precious to ever risk letting slip, least of all when she's breaking apart.

Contentment rolls in like a breeze over everything that'd been scorched, the cooling of it all slow but insistent. Gently, one hand lifts, pulling stray strands of her hair into place where all their jostling had undone them. As they both quiet and she sinks in against him, he curls one arm around behind her, fingers trailing up and down her back in lazy paths. For a time, broken and small sounds seem their only option, but eventually her words rouse, and his alongside them. "Fantastic." He tilts his head, straining to see her, a smile offered just the same.

The idle motions of his hand stills, fingers spread wide against her skin as he inhales the surrounding salt and the sweat smell of her. "That was a nice gift," he murmurs, dreamy and satiated. Whether he means the elite clothing or the aftermath of stripping them, the answer is yes.

I can see the sunshine for the first time in a while
It's like I've been baptized by the warmth of your smile

MELITA

By no means shy, she basked instead, glancing upwards as his hand came to whisk away stray pieces of crimson hair from her face. Tucked in his grasp, she was suddenly in no hurry to go much of anywhere; they’d had their avaricious little journey to peaks and now they were in the valley. Huffing a breath directly along his forehead, her cheeks dimpled at the ‘fantastic’, not even bothering with her inherent eye roll; raising her eyes to look directly into his with all the air of a cat, satisfied and content with their lot in life.

Her laugh drew out of the reverie just the same, snorting at the murmur. “You’re very welcome. I had fun giving it.” Which meant both means – granting and stripping, and she’d quite happy to do it again. “We could do this every time there’s a new clothing line,” followed by a raising of her brows to see how far he’d take the gamble – gods knew they’d have multitudes on their so-called list by the time they ventured out of the pool.

This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight