11. Sirin
Chapter eleven
Sirin
IN WHICH SIRIN CONDUCTS FURTHER EXPERIMENTATION, PRODUCES CONSIDERABLE RESULTS, FINDS IT TO HER SATISFACTION, AND IS IN WANT OF A CHAMBERPOT
Sirin plucked at her nipples, tugging them desperately while Berne kissed down her torso with agonizing slowness.
She was not inexperienced by any means, but her past liaisons had been rushed, furtive things.
Lunologists could see to their own pleasure quickly and easily.
So the people she'd slept with, regardless of gender, in the past had often expected her to augment her pleasure that way, as they surely had been doing for themselves.
This though felt entirely different. Berne showed no intention of rushing, no inclination toward hurrying her along, and no proclivity she had any responsibility to see to her own pleasure in that moment.
It touched something vulnerable in her. A deep, fragile, hidden portion of her she'd convinced herself had no place in her life.
She'd always been too caught up in research for relationships.
Needing to travel so frequently, tracking down a book or an artifact, she couldn't be tied down permanently.
She had plenty of friends—acquaintances really—that she could fuck when in town, several of whom had settled down together and were always up for group play, but she'd never had anyone so focused on her.
He'd sacrificed his whole life, gambled the entire thing to keep her safe, based on a chance meeting in a tavern and a week's worth of stalking her through the woods. She bit her lip and let the reality of it sink in.
He was hers.
It was a heady thing, being important to someone, being tied to someone. It was intoxicating knowing that as far in the future as she lived, she would wake up in a bed smelling of him. And eventually, there would be someone who knew her body nearly as well as she did.
On his way to her cunt, Berne stopped to nurse at her bite mark, which might as well have been her clit for the waves of pleasure it sparked.
She hadn't had time, or the lunula, to investigate what was happening to her body there, but it was something more than a regular scar.
For now, all that mattered was that it somehow had a direct connection to her cunt, and she wouldn't argue or question it.
He caressed her soft belly, tickling her lightly with his beard before he moved his hands back to her pussy.
Splayed before him, Berne paused, staring at her.
Embarrassment rose on her face. No one had ever looked at her there beyond whatever was needed to locate it.
He stared, his face hungry and she couldn't imagine why he wasn't doing anything.
After a few moments of this, she cleared her throat.
''This is rather intimate,'' she said awkwardly, ''you can just dive in, or come inside; I'm ready enough. ''
He slowly raised his eyes to hers and scoffed. ''Ready enough? I don't think so.'' The corner of his mouth quirked. ''And of course it's intimate, I'm learning you. It feels important, like I need to. Like if I look long enough, I might see who you are. Is that alright?''
Berne's eyes roamed leisurely across her sex as he worked his lips intently with his teeth and tongue.
He flushed, the pinkness of his skin a stark contrast to his white beard and hair.
After a few moments, he drew back one hand to stroke his beard, smiling as his tongue darted to lick his lip.
His other trailed along each of her folds, teasing the edges of her.
He spread her slickness up over the expanse of her clit, causing her to gasp.
Sirin felt as if he'd knocked her on her ass.
Berne's intense attention was overwhelming, disorienting and disarming her.
He was burrowing into her, and he hadn't even breached her yet.
That he wanted to see who she was, and he felt this was the way to achieve that was stunning to her.
It made tears prick at the edges of her eyes.
While she still felt like squirming under his intense gaze, his reasoning touched her heart.
Biting her lips and slowed her tugging on her breasts.
Her arousal had calmed to a low simmer in her discomfort.
After a few moments, she found she was at peace with his gaze.
He was so intent on her that she, in turn, got to stare shamelessly at him. His breathing quickened, and for a moment, he looked every inch a hungry bear eyeing his meal. With that same methodical determination, he massaged her, lowering his mouth closer as if drawn by a lodestone.
His arousal increased her own, and Sirin felt it drip down her swollen center, begging for his mouth. When he raised his eyes back to her, his voice cracked, deeper than normal.
''May I taste you?'' he rumbled. She nodded, breathless and dazed in the aftermath of his perusal.
Sirin gasped when he nudged her mound with his nose and licked a wide swath across her opening, humming his enjoyment.
She blushed, for some reason inordinately grateful he was pleased with her.
He lifted her legs, draping them over his shoulders.
Grasping onto her thighs, he lapped at the edges of her entrance, sucking her labia into his mouth with the prickle of his mustache.
Berne lavished attention on the lip that had always been longer, sucking and toying with it inside his mouth, transforming something she'd always been self-conscious about into a feature.
She'd never bothered to modify it because it had seemed a betrayal of her body, and who would ever really notice anyhow?
Now, she was infinitely grateful she'd not done so because it would have been such a waste to miss the blissful sensation.
Berne's noises of pleasure removed any doubts she had about whether this was merely a perfunctory exercise for him.
This was for his enjoyment as much as hers.
His careful exploration finally led him to her clitoris and she cried out, shoving her fist in her mouth.
He chuckled against her, the vibration buzzing through her.
''There's no need to be quiet, no neighbors to speak of, and I built the place solid. No one will hear you,'' he reassured.
Suddenly, the thought, the image of him building this place, sweating and shirtless, flashed into her mind, making her groan.
Had he built the walls thick with this exact purpose in mind? She wondered. Did he build them thick so someday he could hear his wife scream without anxiety?
The thought he'd been thinking of her, planning to pleasure her this way for years, was delicious.
Truly, it didn't matter one way or the other, but the thought spurred her on, driving her toward the precipice of her orgasm.
Berne licked up each side of the hood of her clit, avoiding the sensitive top.
He circled down and around, flicking his tongue along the underside.
She dug her hands into his curls as she filled the house with her cries.
''Oh, Goddess Berne!'' she cried. ''Oh please—so good!''
Sirin's breath sped as he pulsed the flat side of his tongue against her, and her words devolved into a blubbering mess of screams and pleas. He hummed against her core and lifted her hips to him, following her rhythm.
Every so often, he would thrash his head from side to side, like he was attempting to dig his way deeper into her.
The motion was so damn erotic, like his craving for her drove him to consume her.
As her breath quickened, the feeling inside her boiled.
He whispered encouragements she could barely hear but could feel against her cunt.
When she felt as if she could take the sweet torture no longer, Berne sealed his mouth around her clit, sucking enough to make her release loud huffing pants as her orgasm ripped through her, wiping all thoughts from her mind.
Sirin shattered under the force of it, briefly disconnected from the world entirely, existing as nothing more than the feeling of her cunt contracting and the ripples of pleasure they released.
As her orgasm faded, the stimulation became entirely too intense, and she wiggled back away from him, sputtering gibberish and flailing her legs off of his shoulders.
He pulled back with a chuckle and licked his lips.
Closing his eyes as he savored the taste of her on his mouth.
She felt boneless, wrecked by the strongest orgasm she'd had in years.
Not to mention, certainly the only one she'd had without magical augmentation in even longer.
She couldn't remember ever having a more intense experience.
Though, she allowed, my brain does feel like soup right now.
He pushed away from the bed, standing above her, eyes half-lidded as his hands traveled to his belt.
His expression shifted as his smug smile fell from his face and his eyes widened in uncertainty. Berne's face shuttered as he asked, ''Was that alright? Would you like to be done?'' he looked suddenly unsure. ''We don't have to—''
Sirin let out a sound of outrage. ''Alright?
That was fucking fantastic, and if you think you're going to wind me up like that and then ask if I need to be done, you're sorely underestimating me.
What I would like,'' she said with a smirk, ''is for you to be naked so I can play with you. Is that alright?''
He blushed and unbuckled his belt, dropping his pants to the floor, refusing to meet her eyes.
She giggled, sat up and grabbed his hand, warm and rough in hers. Yanking him forward, he tumbled onto the bed with a grunt.