Chapter 34 #2
I kissed him deeply, letting my body settle against his. He was surprisingly solid beneath me, his lanky frame hiding more strength than I'd realized. His hands found my waist, holding me gently as we kissed, each touch growing more confident.
"Maybe we should move somewhere more comfortable?" I suggested between kisses. "The bedroom?"
Milo nodded, his eyes dark with desire despite the nervousness I could still sense in him. "Lead the way."
We made our way to my bedroom, pausing frequently to kiss against walls and doorframes. By the time we reached the bed, we were both breathing hard, caught up in the momentum of our shared desire.
"You're sure about this?" I asked one more time, hovering over him.
Milo reached up to touch my face, his expression open and trusting. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."
That was all the confirmation I needed. I kissed him deeply, then sat up to pull my shirt over my head. Milo's eyes widened as he took in the sight of my body, the blue prophetic markings glowing softly in the dim room.
"You're beautiful," he breathed, reaching up to trace one of the markings with gentle fingers. "So beautiful."
I helped him out of his shirt next, revealing pale skin marked with intricate tattoos that I hadn't known were there. Necromantic symbols mixed with more personal designs covered his chest and arms, telling a story I wanted to learn every chapter of.
"Look who's talking," I smiled, running my hands over the artwork on his skin. "These are amazing."
"Protection wards, mostly," his voice caught as my fingers traced a particularly intricate design over his heart. "And a few memories I wanted to keep close."
We took our time undressing each other, each new revelation met with soft touches and whispers. Milo's nervousness gradually gave way to wonder and desire as we explored each other's bodies with increasing boldness.
When we were finally skin to skin, I guided his hands, showing him how to touch me, where I liked to be caressed. He was a quick study, responding to every gasp and sigh with eager attention. His necromancer's hands, so skilled with the dead, proved equally talented with the living.
"Is this good?" he watched my face intently as his fingers found a particularly sensitive spot.
"Perfect," I gasped, arching into his touch. "Just like that."
I returned the favor, learning his body with dedicated attention. Every sound he made, every twitch and shiver, I cataloged carefully, building a map of his pleasure. When I finally took him his cock in hand, his reaction was beautiful, eyes wide, lips parted in surprise and delight.
"Winter," he moaned, his hips lifting involuntarily. "That's... oh god..."
"Still okay?" I checked, not wanting to overwhelm him.
"More than okay," he nodded frantically. "Please don't stop."
I had no intention of stopping. I continued my exploration, bringing him to the edge before easing back, wanting to prolong this first experience for him.
His necromantic energy responded to his arousal, creating a soft purple glow that mingled with the blue of my prophetic markings where our skin touched.
"I want to feel you," he finally gasped, his hands gripping my hips. "All of you. Please?"
I nodded and I positioned myself above him, our eyes locked together as I slowly sank down, taking him inside me inch by inch.
Milo's eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat. "Oh," he whispered, the simple syllable containing worlds of feeling. "Winter."
I stayed still for a moment, letting him adjust to the sensation, letting myself adjust to the fullness. When I began to move, it was with deliberate slowness, savoring each reaction that crossed his expressive face.
"You feel amazing," I leaned down to kiss him as I rolled my hips.
His hands found my waist, tentatively at first, then with growing confidence as he began to match my rhythm. "So do you," he gasped against my lips. "Better than I ever imagined."
"You imagined this?" I smiled, picking up the pace slightly, my bad knee only twinging slightly.
"All the time," he admitted, a flush spreading across his chest. "Is that okay?"
"More than okay," I took one of his hands and guided it to where our bodies joined. "Touch me here."
He followed my guidance eagerly, his clever fingers quickly finding the right pressure, the perfect rhythm. The dual sensation of him inside me and his touch against my clit sent waves of pleasure building through my body.
Our magic continued to mingle, his necromantic energy and my prophetic power creating swirls of purple-blue light that danced around us like the ghost butterflies he'd conjured earlier.
It wasn't the explosive magical feedback I'd experienced with Zane, but something gentler, a harmonious blending rather than a collision.
As our movements became more urgent, Milo's control began to slip. "Winter," he gasped, his eyes wide with wonder and a touch of panic. "I'm close, I can't—"
"It's okay," I reassured him, increasing my pace. "Let go. I'm right here with you."
He came with a cry of surprise and pleasure, his body arching beneath me.
The sight of him lost in ecstasy, combined with the perfect pressure of his fingers, sent me over the edge moments later.
We clung to each other as the waves of pleasure washed through us, our magic flaring brightly before gradually subsiding.
Afterward, we lay tangled together, breathing hard, skin damp with sweat. Milo looked at me with such wonder and gratitude that it made my heart swell.
"That was..." he searched for words, failing to find adequate ones. "I don't even know how to describe it."
I smiled, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Good? Amazing? Life-changing?"
"All of the above," he laughed softly, pulling me closer. "Thank you for being my first."
"Thank you for trusting me with that," I settled against his chest.
We lay in comfortable silence for a while, our breathing syncing naturally. Milo's fingers traced lazy patterns along my spine, following the path of my prophetic markings.
"Are you okay?" I propped myself up to see his face. "Any regrets?"
"Not a single one," his expression was peaceful. "Well, maybe one tiny regret that I didn't kiss you the very first day we met."
I laughed, relaxing back against him. "That might have been a bit forward. 'Hi, I'm Milo, I raise the dead and by the way can I kiss you?'"
"When you put it that way," he chuckled, the sound vibrating pleasantly against my ear.
A soft clacking sound at the door made us both look up. One of Milo's tiny skeletons had appeared, politely covering its eye sockets with one hand while extending the other to offer us a mug of steaming tea. I had no idea how it was able to carry it, it was bigger than it was.
"Thank you, Jeffrey," Milo called, his voice warm with affection. "Just leave it on the table."
The skeleton set the mug down carefully, gave what might have been a thumbs-up, and retreated, still keeping its eyes covered.
"Your skeletons are surprisingly considerate," I couldn't help being amused.
"They take after me," Milo grinned, pressing a kiss to my hair.
I shifted to look at him properly, struck by a sudden realization.
When I touched his chest, something flashed briefly in my vision, an older Milo, his curls touched with gray at the temples, laugh lines around his eyes deeper, but unmistakably him.
Still beside me, stronger, more confident, but with the same warm smile that made my heart skip.
The vision was gone as quickly as it had come, leaving me slightly breathless. I didn't tell Milo what I'd seen. Instead, I leaned in and kissed his cheek, whispering against his skin:
"Still alive, still here."
He looked at me curiously but didn't question the words, just pulled me closer, our bodies fitting together as if designed for exactly this closeness.