EPILOGUE TWO
Berne
Nodding up at him, Sirin's thick lashes obscured her eyes in that half-lidded, seductive way Berne enjoyed so much.
"That's my good girl," he purred, giving her cunt one last wet press and drawing her shift up over her head.
He held her arms in place so she had to arch her back to stretch up onto her toes, making Sirin's perfect little breasts jut out toward him.
"Lady help me, look at you. Those stockings are killing me and those fucking lips?
Siri, I am dying just looking at them." His eyes focused on her plump lips, already making plans for how she'd use them.
This was supposed to be a time of sacrifice, when she could show her devotion to their Lady and her cause.
She'd appreciate a chance to prove herself, he figured.
"Ach, and here I am wearing too many clothes," he said, tsking and shaking his head.
"I think you should do something about that, and show your Lady how reverent you are while you are about it.
" He wasn't even sure how that would manifest, but if there was one thing his wife could be counted on for, it was her inventive mind.
Releasing her hands, Berne hissed as Sirin skated her hands over him.
Skimming his body and branding each section with palms that felt especially hot.
He gasped as she tugged his shirt out of his pants, those definitely too-warm hands snaking up to tweak his nipples and card through his curly chest hair.
He hummed his enjoyment and his wife's perfect lips curved up in response.
Sirin's practiced fingers made quick work of his trouser buttons without needing to break eye contact.
Berne gasped as she reached into his drawers, sliding around to his back to untie them.
Her fingers were ice as she trailed them over his skin.
His wife smiled up at him, all innocence, making him growl at her.
He reached down and held her chin between two fingers.
"Now isn't the time for mischief. I'll remind yeh that you're mine to play with today, so yeh keep your mind on doing what you're told, aye? "
Color rose in Sirin's cheeks and Berne watched as a flicker of what he assumed was shame flash through her eyes.
He shook her chin. "And I'll have none of that.
Focus on what you're doing. Focus on your goal.
Focus on showing the Lady your dedication.
There's no room for your self-flagellation today, precious. "
Sirin nodded, setting her brow in determination and returned to her work, removing the rest of his clothing, setting it gently to the side with her own.
"Now your stockings, doll, then kneel," Berne prompted.
Settled back into her role, his wife moved gracefully to remove her stockings, her ripe flesh revealed to him fully as she did so.
Each curve and lush expanse called to him, his tongue already reminded of the warm, salty-sweet taste of her skin.
His mouth watered just looking at her, and the rhythmic humming of his purr rumbled his chest. Kneeling before him, the heavy length of her braid falling over her shoulder, she looked every bit the supplicant to some sort of sex god.
Most days, his wife was too succulent to be true, to be real to him.
But with the dim light of the candles and moss reflecting off the canvas of her skin, she somehow looked more real.
Sirin was always a lot, but for the first time, he was overwhelmed with the thought that she might be too much.
She was too bright, too smart, too dedicated, too beautiful to be contained by this small cavern.
She'd somehow grown to the task, her submission before him and their Goddess elevating her above anything he'd yet experienced.
Sirin seemed to pulse with purpose now, her ever-curious eyes stilling to look up at him, holding his gaze and waiting for direction.
Sweet Lady she was gorgeous, and for perhaps the millionth time, he sent a secret prayer of thanks to the Lady for entrusting him with such a mate.
"Good. What a sweet doll you are when you behave," he crooned. "Now, take my cock and show the Lady how grateful you are for the gifts she has already given you. Show her how you cherish and worship what you have, how thorough you are when you are entrusted with something she values."
Sirin had often called him her Lord, saying she'd abandoned any fealty to her former organization, appointing him her own personal Lord.
The moniker had never felt right to him before, but today he settled into it, the ease of it seeping into him as he watched the effect he had on her.
Sirin's breathing picked up, the beat of her heart fluttering at her neck and the scent of her arousal filling the room.
For a brief moment, her eyes flashed with challenge before her as she licked her lips and nodded.
When Berne looked at his wife, he could feel his need for her clouding his thoughts, muddling his mind in a way he rarely allowed himself until right before he came.
Often, sex between them felt like a competition to see who could please whom the most, be the most attentive partner, draw out the most intense orgasm.
Not that it was actually a competition, but they were both always so obsessed with pleasing the other that it was rare that either allowed themselves the opportunity to just take.
Today, Berne got to take. The problem, of course, was that Sirin was usually far more inventive than he was, which he loved.
But at that moment, he had no idea what to demand, what to request, and so he settled on making her surprise him.
Berne raised a brow at her, letting a hint of challenge enter his voice.
"Show me something new, sweetling, show off for your Lord and your Goddess. "
Leaning over, Sirin placed a hand on each of his feet, running them up his legs.
As she moved, her hands chilled until they felt like she'd just been outside on a crisp day.
Berne hissed in a breath as she cupped him with a chilled hand, the other circling the base of his cock and squeezing purposefully.
She pumped up his length, the coolness a stark contrast to his hot-blooded shaft.
Leaning forward, Sirin let her jaw fall lax, her slick pink tongue peeking out from where it rested against her lower lip, just the sight of it making him jump in her hands.
He gasped when she flicked it out to lick the bead of moisture that had gathered on his tip.
Berne could swear her tongue was warmer than normal, though perhaps it just felt that way in contrast to her cool hands caressing him.
Sirin leaned forward, skipping any prelude and immediately taking his full length to the back of her throat, making him grunt and buck into her mouth.
"Fuck, love!" he gasped, the heat of her mouth searing down his length.
Pulling back, Sirin sucked hard, and each inch exposed to the air was quickly engulfed in her cooled hands.
As she neared the end of his cock, she sucked harder, tugging on his foreskin in the most delicious way.
Sirin hummed and stretched it, worrying it gently between her lips.
Her hum traveled up his taut skin, the vibrations tantalizing his shaft and making his balls contract up toward his body.
Using one hand to keep his foreskin pulled over his glans, Sirin slipped her tongue between, circling his head.
The contrast between the heat of her mouth and the chill of her hands was overwhelming.
She took him deep again, the warmth of her mouth heavenly.
She repeated her motions in sequence, cool hands, warm mouth, pull on his foreskin, tease and then straight back, swallowing down deep in her throat.
She'd twist her hand around his length as she pulled back, chilling his slick cock, making him shiver.
It wasn't long before he felt his control slipping.
Sirin was meant to be showing her devotion, and she was certainly making a compelling case as far as he was concerned.
Snaking her hand around to grasp his cheek, Sirin sought his second mating mark, the one she'd placed on his left ass cheek and began massaging it vigorously, her hand fluctuating from hot to cool.
Once she'd discovered the functionality of a mating mark, Sirin had become obsessed.
They now each sported three, and he could see her demanding more in the future.
He'd tried to explain that people only had the one, but she'd insisted that if one could make a slew of erogenous zones, then it was just bad sex etiquette if you didn't create as many as your partner might enjoy.
Between her wicked mouth sucking and the hand that toyed with his mating mark, Berne was vibrating with the effort of holding back his shift.
At home, he had no issue staying human, finding that the environment really seemed to influence what form came most naturally.
Apparently, his body thought that a cave was the perfect place to be a bear, because his transformation began.
His hands grew, sharp claws replacing his nails, and he ran a hand through his hair, desperately tugging at it to distract himself.
His hips stuttered in and out of his wife's perfect pout, and the sight of her as she stretched his foreskin, her plump lips caressing it, undid him.
He slammed into her mouth again, his other paw wrapping around the back of her head to keep her in place.