29. Leah #3
“You have no idea how much I’ve missed this,” he breathes against my skin, sending goosebumps rising up across it.
“I’ve dreamt about this.” He slides a possessive hand across my stomach.
“And these.” He pushes himself down lower, kissing the tops of my hip bones.
“And this.” He sighs, sliding between my legs and flicking his tongue in a way that sets me on fire.
“Fuck, Syrus,” I whine. “Don’t play with me. Don’t make me wait, after all this time.”
He hums, and the vibration of it rattles through me.
“I think you’re crediting me with much more self-control than I actually possess,” he says. His hands are splaying over the tops of my thighs, thumbs brushing lightly against my skin as he urges me open a little more to display all of myself to him.
When I’ve been in this position with other men, I’ve always felt exposed, too vulnerable to relax into it, but the look of pure, devastated arousal on Syrus’s face wipes all of that away as he presses soft kisses to the insides of my thighs, muttering sweet praises in Cyrax as he goes.
“So beautiful…so perfect…would’ve died without this…couldn’t stand it…”
My voice is quick to join his when he dances his tongue across the bundle of nerves, making them sing.
I slip a hand around the base of one of his horns and use it to direct him, angling his head until his mouth is working me in exactly the right spot.
It sends shudders through my body, my orgasm already looming.
He groans in response to my manhandling, and I flush hard, heat seeping up across my chest.
“You like that, then?” I ask, my own breath hitching as he swipes his tongue across me.
“Yes. Almost as much as I like this,” he lifts his head a little, watching his own hand slide up across my breast, fingers teasing where my pale skin shows every blush. “I love how pretty and pink you get for me.”
It’s true—Syrus can still bring color to my skin like every time he’s touching me is the first.
I tug on his horn again, and he makes a pleased, low groan as he returns his attention between my legs, making me buck and moan as he lavers at my entrance.
I come hard moments later, my fingers sliding from Syrus’s horn to twist in his hair. I am melted, boneless, floating in a warm, syrupy feeling. He kisses the edge of my knee, then starts to lift off of me. I pull him down, wanting his weight against me again.
I can feel his hardness pressed against me then, solid and unsated, and despite the satisfaction seeping through my body, I ache to have him inside me.
There’s a part of me that’s afraid we lost something with the bond, that this won’t feel like enough anymore after the intensity of what we used to share.
But joining our bodies together, being wrapped around him, feels like the only way to chase that fear away.
We don’t need to speak into each other’s minds to know what we both want. When I meet his gaze, the look we exchange says everything—take me, claim me, please.
I hook my leg over one of his own to invite him in, and in answer he braces a hand against the small of my back, pressing into me.
I moan as the thick head of his cock breaches me, dragging against my inner walls, filling me up.
He takes a moment to rest there inside of me, basking in the perfection of the fit, darkened eyes drinking me in.
When he pulls out at last, he saves me from feeling empty for too long, thrusting swiftly back in as he soon finds a rhythm that leaves me gasping.
It turns out Filippa was right: my wings don’t get in the way of this. In fact, as Syrus presses my hips into a deeper bend, his hands find my feathers, fingers dragging lightly against them.
“Fuck, do that again,” I order, my head rolling back as a whole new set of nerves awakens around me.
He caresses my wings once more, still driving into me with each stroke, a wicked grin on his face.
He folds his own wings around us, until the thick, ridged edges of them brush up against my own, the membrane so sensitive there my vision starts to blur with pleasure.
It rolls across me in waves, sinking into my body and then building with every snap of his hips.
Eventually, my hands slide across his ass, gripping him tighter, letting him know—if my panting moans haven’t clued him in already—that I’m close.
He bends his head and drops one more kiss against my lips, changing the angle of our bodies until I’m breaking apart, clenching around his cock as the shockwaves of ecstasy ricochet through me.
Moments later, Syrus shudders above me, arms braced as he spills into my body, calling my name like a sigh. I almost sob in relief at being filled by him again, wholly claimed and consumed, and feeling more right than I have in a long time.
I clutch him close for a long time after, and judging by how tightly his arms embrace me, by how completely he drapes his body against mine, I sense he needs this too.
We’ve had realms separate us, we’ve lost the bond, but we’re still here, entwined, this time both of us refusing to be the first to let go.