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Kissing Krem in the Herald’s Rest was a gamble.
It was dim in the corner, and most of the patrons were drunk, but that wasn’t quite enough to disguise the way Virelan’s hands ran over him, the way she plucked at his clothes and ground against his body. She saw how he peeked over her shoulder, breathing heavily, his warm brown eyes scanning the room. She wasn’t surprised when he took control and turned to lever her against the wall—breath huffed from her smiling mouth before he captured it again with his own. He drove his thigh between her legs, allowing her to rut against it for a moment, before he broke the kiss.
“Not here, Vir,” he breathed regretfully. “Chief’ll never let me live it down.”
She pulled back again, drunk on him, and sighed. “No fun. Though, I suppose it’d feel better blowing you on an actual bed. I’m a bit sore after our sparring practice this afternoon.”
He cupped her face in his large, warm hands, grinning wide. “I look forward to easing out the kinks, then. Now off with you. I’ll be right behind you.”
She pushed him away with a laugh, then turned towards the door. He sent her on her way with a brisk slap on the ass—if she’d been a younger woman, she might’ve squealed, but as it was she just shot him a look over her shoulder.
She paced her room, vibrating with nervous energy, until she heard the rap on the door. She opened it instantly, with no preamble, and immediately laid her hands and lips on the man that waited on the other side.
Krem laughed into her mouth, but stumbled through and shut the door blindly behind him. Her hands roamed over him as they staggered up the stairs, marking that he had removed his armour and had come to her in only breeches and a loose, linen shirt. He was bound beneath it—she rucked up his shirt and eagerly spread her hands over his chest.
“I thought you changed your mind,” she gasped.
He bit at her lip, drawing another gasp from her throat, before murmuring, “I couldn’t let you down, Your Worship.”
When they reached the bed, she turned sharply and pushed him down on it. He chuckled, surprised, and he kicked his boots off without a word. He shuffled back against the pillows as she dropped to hands and knees, crawling over him with predatory focus.
He nudged her nose with his own, his expression growing soft, and she kissed him with a rumbling groan. His fingers fumbled with her buttons before giving up and pulling his own shirt over his head. He tossed it aside as if personally offended by it.
“Unbind me tonight?” he asked her, breathless. “I want your hands on me, your mouth.”
Virelan didn’t have to be asked twice. She reached around him and unpinned the fabric—he raised his shoulders in an attempt to give her access, and she kissed one with ardent zeal. Her mouth left a dark mark on his tanned skin.
She unwound his binder with clumsy efficiency, and watching him watch her sent a bolt of arousal between her legs. His face was soft, trusting, brown eyes intently watching hers, and the second he was bare to her she met his eyes for permission. He silently gave it with a smile.
Virelan tossed his binder aside and lowered her mouth to his chest, kissing across the marks the fabric had left. Krem groaned, his head falling back against the pillows, when she took a nipple in her mouth and sucked.
“Maker, your mouth,” he sighed, hand falling to the back of her head. “Yes, just like that, Your Worship, yes.”
She laved her tongue, hard, in a circle around his nipple—his back bowed, lifting his spine from the bed, and she reached behind him to claw her nails against his skin. Her hands lowered to his waistband, and his hips twitched in response.
“Yes, take them—here, I’ll help—”
She smacked his hands away, rucking his pants down herself. She released his nipple with a pop and kissed further down his body, over his ribs to his firm belly. She rubbed soothing circles into his hips with her thumbs.
“Can I put my mouth on you?” she asked, glancing up at him over the planes of his battle-hardened body.
He kicked his breeches away, chest heaving, and nodded. “Please, I want—want you.”
She grinned, her teeth pressing lightly to his skin, and nosed her way further down. She kissed along his hip bone, then the line that led from it into his groin. She loved how free and unabashed he was with the groans and cries that met her ears.
Virelan parted his legs, chuckling when he slung one over her shoulder with no hesitation. She turned and kissed his thigh before kissing lower, lower, finally laying prone on the mattress. She nosed into his thick brown curls, breathing in the musk of him, and found his clit within its hood.
Krem’s cry was loud, unashamed. His hand fell on her head and scratched at her scalp, tugging her against his groin. She extended her tongue and lapped at him, drinking up his tangy slick with relish, before wrapping her lips around his clit and sucking, hard. She swirled her tongue around its head until it hardened in her mouth.
“Fuck, you taste good,” she told him, burrowing in for more.
He groaned wordlessly, his hand splayed over the back of her skull, before hoarsely rasping, “Your Worship, please fuck me, want your fingers in me.”
Her hand trembled with excitement, lust pounding between her legs, as she brought her fingers up to his slick entrance. She hooked them inside, just under her chin, and stroked his inner wall in time with the laps of her tongue.
“Vir, fuck,” he gasped, rutting against her face. He used his grasp on her head to hold her face in place as he ground up against it. “That’s it, right there, Maker oh fuck me.”
Her fingers sped, the sound of them wet and sloppy and obscene, and she kept up her relentless pressure on his clit. His thighs tightened around her ears, and his low voice grew hoarse and desperate and wordless. She spread her free hand on his calf and stroked up and down his leg—his hair was soft and comforting to touch.
His nails caught at the base of her skull, and he hissed, “Gonna come, Vir, gonna come—” before cutting off into a long, low groan.
She didn’t stop, didn’t relent, until he gushed wetly against her chin and pulsed around her fingers. He pushed on her forehead and huffed out an incredulous laugh, so she released his clit with a soft pop and slowly withdrew her fingers from his body. He let her lap up his cum with her flattened tongue, watching her after raising himself on one propped elbow—he sighed and grinned when she finally raised her face, licking her lips clean.
“C’mere,” he breathed, reaching for her.
She crawled eagerly up his naked body, sighing when he pulled her against him with a thump. He kissed her, eagerly tasting himself in her mouth, and hissed out rapid breaths through his nose as he flipped her on her back. She felt so small in his muscled arms.
Krem wetly broke the kiss, just to sloppily mouth his way down her throat to the first set of buttons. He tugged impatiently at her clothes until she began helping with fumbling fingers. Before she managed to wriggle from her leggings, he’d ground against her thigh with deep, grunting moans in his chest. By the time she stripped, her clothes had been wetted straight to her skin.
He tossed her clothes aside with annoyed grunts, laying his mouth on every inch of her he could reach. But she held him close, not allowing him the space to move down her body—she needed him as he was, pressed chest to breast, his thigh between her legs, his weight pressing her into the mattress. She ground up against him, slicking his muscled leg with her need.
“Fuck me, Krem, please—” she gasped, mouth slack near his ear. “Want you against me.”
His hand clutched at her hip, then attempted to slide between them. She cut it off by grinding up harder against his pelvis. “No, not your hand, want you.”
He drew his teeth along her pointed ear. “Nothing inside you? Don’t you want my fingers filling you up?”
She cuffed his neck, her fingers tangling in the soft hair at his nape, and pulled him into a fierce, biting kiss. She laved her tongue behind his teeth, breathing harshly through her nose, before she released his mouth. She kept him close, her forehead pressed to his.
“Like this,” she said, parting her legs and urging him closer between them with one hand in the small of his back. “Grind against me. Want you close.”
He nodded, forehead still pressed to hers, and hooked one hand under her knee. He hiked her leg up and pressed closer until his slick met hers.
That first grind, with its harsh pressure and gratuitous wetness, was enough to draw a loud groan from deep within her. He huffed a laugh, excited, and fucked against her harder—her body bounced with the strength of it, arousal and prickling satisfaction rushing through her limbs.
“Creators, yes, fuck me Krem,” she gasped.
She breathed in the hot air from his lungs as he leaned over her, his body heavy against hers. His strong, calloused hand gripped her tight in the pit of her knee—her foot dangled free in midair as her leg was supported by his grasp.
He grunted, dissatisfied, and leaned back on his haunches with a suddenness that stole her breath. He kept his grasp tight on her leg, lifting it over his shoulder, and grasped at one of her breasts with his free hand as he ground against her. His talented fingers pinched and plucked at her nipple until she groaned.
“Maker, you’re beautiful Vir,” he breathed. His eyes raked over her body, as if to memorise every line, every soft, strong part. A deep, rosy flush washed over his cheeks, chest and throat, and his parted lips were so plush and kissable—she hated that he was out of reach.
Pleasure ratcheted higher inside her with every thrust of his hips, with every rasping, wet grind of his body against hers. His hair was coarse against her soft, bare skin—the slide of his cum through her slick lips was so satisfying that she nearly came from the thought of it. Krem’s hand clutched, desperate, at the flesh of her breast.
“Close, love,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “Fuck me, oh fenedhis you're so good, Krem, fuck me—”
He leaned forward, bracing himself on both hands on either side of her face, and kissed her. His weight folded her in half. Her knee pressed near her ear, and she hooked her other leg around his thigh, her arms around his waist—they were so close, so entangled, lips locked and teeth clacking against each other and tongues sucking on tongues, that she nearly lost where he ended and she began. Their skin was slick with sweat where they touched, and she breathed in the sharp, metallic scent of him with a giddy sort of greed.
It was so wet between them that there was only the most satisfying of slick friction—his body moved against hers with eager urgency, fucking her into the bed. She took it with a smile against his mouth, with murmured encouragement and rasping cries, until she grasped desperately at the muscled lines of his back and groaned that she was close, to not stop, Creators don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop—
He hummed a satisfied rumble against her lips as her body locked. He slid one hand to the small of her back and pulled her closer, humping her through her climax and panting into her mouth. She shuddered and moaned, undone, as he chased his own, second orgasm against her body.
“Come for me, Krem,” she whispered, her body growing slack in his grip. She held him to her, boneless. “Come again, come on my— there, yes.”
He tucked his face into the curve of her shoulder and bit down on her skin to muffle his cry. She grunted through the pleasure-pain of it, laughing deep in her chest, and held him closer as his muscles began to slacken. He turned and started pressing loose-mouthed kisses to her neck, her shoulder, her ear.
“Beautiful,” he murmured. “Beautiful, Vir, beautiful. You feel so good, thank you, thank you.”
She shushed him, raising one hand to lace through his hair and cradle him close. He dropped his full weight on her and let her hold him. “You’re incredible, Krem. So strong, so good to me. I should be thanking you.”
She could feel his smile and tired chuckle against her neck. “What a pair we make, hmm?”
Virelan absently squeezed his upper arm. “A good one, love. A good one.”